CHAPTER 1

A THEOLOGY OF EVANGELISM

What must I do for my friend to be saved?

Anne is a stay-at-home mom who helps to run the play group at her church. After dropping off her two older sons at school, she brings her youngest son to the play group. Anne enjoys watching her son play with other four-year-olds while she has coffee with other parents.

One of the aims of the play group is to create opportunities for evangelism. Many of the parents and children don’t come from churched backgrounds, so the play group offers a unique opportunity to tell them the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Anne does this by mixing stories from the Bible with well-known children’s storybooks. For story time, the children might hear about Little Red Riding Hood, the Cat in the Hat, and David and Goliath. Next, Anne incorporates Bible stories into the craft activities. So far, the children have made slingshots to go with the David and Goliath story, long-haired wigs to go with the Samson story, and bandages to go with the story about Jesus raising Lazarus.

Anne is excited by the play group’s success. But lately there have been complaints from the Christian parents. They’re frustrated that the gospel isn’t being communicated. Why isn’t Anne using the Four Spiritual Laws, which is how many of the Christian parents first heard the gospel? And why hasn’t Anne talked about Jesus’ substitutionary death on the cross?

Has Anne been doing evangelism at all? Has she been communicating the gospel of Jesus Christ? In what sense is the play group an evangelistic play group?

What counts as evangelism? What is the gospel? These words carry a lot of baggage, tradition, and emotion. Many well-meaning Christians remember fondly how they were told the gospel at some evangelistic event. For them, that will remain the only recognizable form of evangelism.

You may be coming to this book with a well-developed sense of what you mean by the word evangelism, or you may come with your own questions. To answer some of these questions, we will start by exploring a theology of evangelism. We will do this by surveying how the Bible describes evangelism and then applying this to our contemporary settings. So let’s begin with some definitions. What is evangelism according to the Bible?

WHAT IS EVANGELISM?

I want to be clear that while many people use the word evangelism in different ways, we are looking to understand evangelism as an idea that we get from the Bible. There is just one problem. There is no direct-equivalent word for our English word evangelism in the Bible. There is no noun that matches how we use the term in English.

The Bible uses these Greek words: euangelion—“gospel”—to describe what is said (Mark 1:14–15); euangelistes—“evangelist”—to describe the person who is telling the gospel (Acts 21:8; Eph. 4:11); and euangelizo—“to proclaim the gospel”—to describe the activity of telling the gospel (Rom. 10:15). The best way to understand the term evangelism is that it is our attempt to describe what happens when someone tells the euangelion or gospel.

What Do the Terms Euangelion and Gospel Mean?

Euangelion, or gospel, usually refers to the “good news” about Jesus Christ. It is the story of God saving his people and judging his enemies by sending Jesus Christ. In this sense, euangelion or gospel is more broadly both good news and bad news.1

Hebrew

In the Old Testament, the Hebrew terms are besorah (noun) and basar (verb), which the Septuagint translates into Greek as euangelion and euangelizo respectively. These terms refer to the activity of bringing significant news in any general sense (1 Sam. 4:17; 1 Kings 1:42; Jer. 20:15). But they also come to mean significant news in a specific sense—God’s acts of salvation, especially the promised eschatological salvation of his people (Ps. 40:9; 68:11; 96:2; Isa. 40:9; 41:27; 52:7; 61:1; Joel 2:32; Nah. 1:15).2

Greek

Outside of the Bible, the Greek word euangelion (in the neuter singular) hardly occurs. And when we do find it being used, it doesn’t mean “good news” until several centuries after the New Testament.

But in the New Testament, euangelion recalls what we saw in the Old Testament’s use of basar—“to bring good news.” The word is used seventy-six times in the New Testament—sixty times by Paul alone. It typically refers to the story about Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 15:1; Gal. 1:11; 2:2) or of someone telling this story (1 Cor. 9:14; 2 Cor. 2:12; 8:18).3

English

The English word gospel comes from the Anglo-Saxon word God-spell—literally, “God’s story.” It is used in our English Bibles to translate the Greek word euangelion. When William Tyndale translated the Bible into English, he used gospel to mean “good news.”

What Does the Concept of Evangelism Mean?

Evangelism is a term we use in English for the act of communicating the gospel. This idea is conveyed in the New Testament by the verb euangelizo (“to bring good news”). But the concept should be broadly understood to include several different ways of bringing that good news to people. It includes any form of communicating the gospel, and there are several New Testament verbs that convey this idea, such as martureo (“to testify” or “bear witness”), kerusso (“to herald”), parakaleo (“to exhort”), katangelo (“to proclaim”), or propheteuo (“to prophesy”), and didasko (“to teach”).4

Evangelism Is Defined by Its Message

While several terms indicate the variety of ways we communicate the gospel, the essence of evangelism is in the message, the gospel of Jesus. Evangelism is the event of communicating this message, or we might say that evangelism is defined by its message. The essence of evangelism is not the method (preaching, singing, acting) nor the medium (a person, a book, a song) nor the occasion (church service, commencement speech, school camp) nor the audience (believers and nonbelievers).

Evangelism Has Broad and Narrow Senses

In a broad sense, evangelism communicates the gospel to both believers and nonbelievers. We find this sense of evangelism, for example, when Paul says, “[Christ] is the one we proclaim, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone fully mature in Christ” (Col. 1:28). Paul communicates (evangelizes) the gospel to the believers, those who already know and follow Jesus. In this broad sense, evangelism is the basis of preaching, teaching, and ethical exhortations to believers. Without the gospel message, our preaching, teaching, and exhortations to believers would be reduced to legalism and moral aphorisms.

In the midtwentieth century, C. H. Dodd wrongly made it fashionable to distinguish between preaching to believers and evangelizing nonbelievers. But this distinction cannot be supported biblically, because in the New Testament the gospel is the basis of both activities. Both believers and nonbelievers are being preached to and evangelized with the gospel.5

However, we can also define evangelism in a narrow sense as communicating the gospel to nonbelievers to urge them to believe in Jesus (Acts 8:35; Rom. 10:14–15). For the rest of this book, we will use the term evangelism in this sense.

Evangelism Is Not Defined by Its Method

In the Bible, there is no single method of communicating the gospel; instead there is a variety of methods. In the New Testament alone, we find:

Unfortunately, well-meaning Christians often get stuck on one particular method and end up believing it is the only or best method. Usually this is the method that we have become an expert in. Or it is the method that was effective in our own conversion. Or it is the method that distinguishes our tradition or denomination from others.

For example, my American friends tell me that for a long time, much of North American evangelism utilized tent-style crusades. Or it relied on crisis evangelism, sharing the gospel in a way that emphasized making a decision at that moment.6 While it’s understandable why we might use one method for a long time, it does mean that we miss out on the strengths of other methods. And we risk becoming legalistic and reductionist by insisting on one method, confusing orthodoxy (the message) with orthopraxy (the method).

My hope is that this book will help us to be aware of our prejudices about methods of evangelism and to explore different methods and appreciate their strengths.

WHAT IS THE GOSPEL?

We have defined evangelism as an event where the gospel is communicated. But what exactly is this gospel? How do we describe it? How do we understand it? To answer these questions, we will look at the gospel from three different but complementary perspectives.

1. The Gospel according to the New Testament Writers

Let’s say we’re trained as New Testament exegetes. We would answer the question “What is the gospel?” by describing what New Testament writers such as Paul say about it. From passages such as Romans 1:1–5 and 1 Corinthians 15:1–4, we can observe four things:

  1. The gospel is the story about Jesus Christ: who he is and what he has done.
  2. Our access to the gospel is through the Scriptures.
  3. The gospel, which demands a response of faith and obedience, brings salvation.
  4. The gospel is communicated to both believers and nonbelievers.

GOD’S GOSPEL OR MY GOSPEL?

In Romans 1:1, the apostle Paul tells us that the gospel is “the gospel of God”; it is God’s gospel.* This means the story belongs to God; it is not our story to invent, modify, or embellish. We should also trust in its power. We do not need to add anything to it to make it more powerful.

At the same time, in Romans 16:25 Paul tells us that the gospel is “my gospel, the message I proclaim about Jesus Christ”; it is Paul’s gospel as proclaimed by him. So even though the story belongs to God, it is told by a human evangelist. In this sense, it is our story to tell. It has to come through our personality, culture, language, idioms, emotions, limitations, and experiences.

There is always this tension to the act of evangelism. We have a timeless story from God, which is true for all peoples of all cultures and in all places. But at the same time, it has to be told by a person who is in a time, culture, and place. Throughout this book, we will return to this tension again and again, and we’ll explore it in greater detail in later chapters.

* This was drummed into my head by one of Sydney’s champion evangelists, John Chapman. I can still hear his distinctive voice saying, “It is God’s gospel.”

2. The Gospel according to Theologians

Let’s say we’re trained as systematic theologians. We would answer the question “What is the gospel?” by prescribing systematized biblical ideas for our contemporary setting. Most approaches to evangelism in the West use some type of theological grid to communicate and explain Christian beliefs. For example, we could break down the gospel story into a variation on the following main points:7

  1. God created us.
  2. We have sinned against God.
  3. Jesus saves us from our punishment.
  4. We now have a decision to make.

These main points are fleshed out with our theologies of creation, sin, salvation, and conversion. This has been the predominant approach to evangelism over the last century, commonly found in methods like Evangelism Explosion, the Four Spiritual Laws, Bridge to Life, and Two Ways to Live. Perhaps you can think of others.

3. The Gospel according to Storytellers

Let’s say we’re trained as storytellers, in particular as biblical theologians. We would answer the question “What is the gospel?” by tracing the story of what God has done, and continues to do, to save his people. As an example of this approach, Timothy Keller suggests the following storytelling grid:8

  1. Manger
  2. Cross
  3. King

We would begin by telling the story of how Jesus came to us in a manger. God the Son came to us as a human being, a servant. He ate and drank with the poor, the marginalized, and the outcast. Theologians call this act the incarnation. It illustrates the new ethic and reversal of values described by New Testament writers: “The last will be first, and the first will be last” (Matt. 20:16), “Blessed are the meek” (Matt. 5:5), and “He made himself nothing” (Phil. 2:7).

Next, we tell the story of how Jesus died for us on a cross. God the Son saves us from our sins by dying in our place. This is an act of grace. We are saved not by our goodness but by this gift from God. Theologians call this act substitutionary atonement. It is the salvation by grace described by New Testament writers: “All have sinned . . . all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus” (Rom. 3:23–24).

Finally, we tell the story of how Jesus will come again as king. God the Son is coming again to renew this world. He will right all wrongs and wipe away every tear. The renewed life that we enjoy now in the gift of God’s Spirit will be enjoyed forever, more fully, in a renewed world. This is what theologians call restoration. It is the consummation described by New Testament writers: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord” (Rev. 11:15).

WHAT ARE THE ROLES IN EVANGELISM?

In an orchestra, there are different parts to play. Some people play the violin. Some play the trumpet. In my high school orchestra, I played the percussion instruments—the triangle and tambourine. In the same way, there are different roles in evangelism. Let’s unpack this idea by looking at a passage from Paul’s first letter to the church at Thessalonica.

In 1 Thessalonians 1:4–10, Paul describes when he evangelized the Christians in Thessalonica. We can note that in this passage, six different roles are being played:

  1. God’s role is to choose people for salvation (v. 4). God has a sovereign role in salvation. This is the theological idea of calling, election, and predestination.
  2. Jesus’ role is to save people from wrath (v. 10). He is responsible for dying for people and their sins, rising from the dead, and one day coming back to judge people. Jesus’ other role is that the gospel story is about him (v. 8). The gospel is a message about who Jesus is and what he’s done to save people from their sins.
  3. Paul’s role is to communicate the gospel (v. 5). He did this both with words and actions, not just what he said but also how he lived. Paul gives more details about his model life in 1 Thessalonians 2:6–12.
  4. The Holy Spirit’s role is to empower the person who is communicating the gospel (v. 5). Perhaps this means that the Spirit gives the person the gift of effective communication or the words to say. And the Spirit also illuminates the person hearing the gospel by convicting them (v. 5) and opening their heart to receive the gospel with joy (v. 6).
  5. The Thessalonians hear the gospel and welcome it with joy (v. 6b). They respond with faith (v. 8b) by turning from their idols to God (vv. 8b–9). Now they imitate Paul (v. 6a) and are models for other believers (v. 7) while they wait for Jesus to return (v. 10).
  6. The gospel is a message about Jesus (v. 8). It is the means by which the Holy Spirit convicts people of their sins (v. 5) and enables them to welcome God’s salvation with joy (v. 6).

We can describe these different roles in evangelism using theological categories:

God Chooses (v. 5) Election
Jesus Saves (v. 10) Atonement
Paul (the evangelist) Brings the gospel (v. 5) External call
Holy Spirit Power, suffering, joy (vv. 5–6) Internal call
Thessalonians (hearers) Faith and repentance (vv. 8–9) Conversion
Gospel message Story of Jesus (v. 8) Instrument

And when we look elsewhere in the New Testament, we find similar roles—multiple, different, complementary—in Philip’s evangelism of the Ethiopian (Acts 8:26–40) and Paul’s evangelism of the gentiles (Acts 13:48).

When I work as a medical doctor at the hospital, the doctors and nurses are given multiple, different, and complementary roles in a surgical operation. The surgeon’s role is to perform the knee surgery. The anesthesiologist’s role is to keep the patient asleep and pain free. The nurse’s role is to pass the surgical instruments to the surgeon. My role, as the surgical assistant, is to hold the leg. It’s important that I stay focused on my role so that I can do it well. It’s also important that I don’t try to perform someone else’s role, because that will burden me with a responsibility that isn’t mine. At the same time, I do everything I can to cooperate with the others on our team, helping them to do their roles, complementing what they do, and trying not to get in their way.

It’s the same with evangelism. Our role is to communicate the gospel both in words and actions. But our role is not God’s: we are not sovereignly choosing who gets saved. Our role is not Jesus’: we are not saving people from their sins. Our role is not the Holy Spirit’s: we cannot force people to believe. Instead we must stay focused on our role as the evangelist and do it well. We do everything we can to cooperate with God, complement what he does, and not create obstacles to evangelism.

God’s Sovereignty and Human Responsibility

This brings us to a question about the relationship between God’s sovereignty in evangelism and our responsibility as the human evangelist. Many Bible passages emphasize God’s sovereignty in the task of evangelism. (See 2 Tim. 2:10 and Matt. 9:37–38 as examples.) But there are also Bible passages that emphasize the human evangelist’s responsibility (Rom. 10:14–15; 2 Tim. 4:5).

This is another of those healthy tensions in the Bible. If we emphasize only God’s sovereignty and remove our responsibility, we become lazy fatalists: “God will do something if he wants to.” But if we emphasize only our responsibility and remove God’s sovereignty, we become overburdened with guilt for not evangelizing enough, despairing that not enough are responding to our message, and disappointed with our inadequate gifts. We might even feel the need to coerce or manipulate people into belief. Even worse, we might become proud when our efforts are rewarded by people responding to our message.

But if we get the tension right, we will praise God when people respond to the gospel, because it’s God who chooses people for salvation. We will also pray to God to open the hearts of the hearers, because that is something only God can do. We will also be encouraged to do the work of an evangelist no matter how unrewarding it is, because we know that God is in control. At any moment, he might use our gospel message, no matter how poorly gifted we are, as the natural means to bring someone to salvation. For our part, we should do everything within our strength, gifting, and circumstances to communicate the gospel clearly, frequently, and persuasively.

The External and Internal Call of the Gospel

The Protestant Reformers gave us the useful categories of the external and internal calls of the gospel to help us understand the relationship between God’s sovereignty and human responsibility in evangelism.

When an evangelist communicates the gospel, this is the external call of the gospel. It is open, public, and resistible. For example, if I tell my friend Larry about Jesus, this is the external call. It’s happening openly: I know I’m doing it; Larry knows I’m doing it. It’s publicly verifiable: anyone watching can verify that I’m telling Larry about Jesus. And it’s resistible: Larry can choose not to believe my message.

The internal call of the gospel occurs if God effectively uses the gospel to open the heart of the nonbeliever, moving that person from unbelief to belief. For example, when I tell my friend Larry about Jesus, if God sovereignly chooses, the Holy Spirit will apply my words to Larry’s heart. Larry is illuminated: he hears and understands; he sees and believes. His heart is regenerated so that he can respond to the gospel call by moving to faith and repentance. This work of the Holy Spirit is hidden: I don’t know whether it’s happening. It is private: I have no access to what’s going on. And it is effectual: God sovereignly cooperates with Larry’s free will so that he chooses to believe the gospel.

As with much of theology, the exact terms—external and internal calls of the gospel—are not found in the Bible, but they express biblical ideas and concepts. In some Bible passages, we have evidence of the external call of the gospel, which is resisted (Matt. 22:14; John 5:39–40). In other passages, we see the internal call of the gospel, which is hidden, private, and effectual (John 3:8; 10:3; Acts 16:14).

My friend Andrew once invited his nonbelieving friend to hear Billy Graham preach the gospel. Graham was preaching somewhere in a studio in the USA, and the message was being broadcast to TV sets all over the world.

Andrew and his friend sat in front of a small TV to hear Graham. But Graham was much weakened by the effects of age and disease. He was no longer the powerful and gifted speaker that most of us remember. Even worse, the picture was tiny and the sound quality was poor.

Andrew was embarrassed that he had asked his friend to listen to this gospel presentation. So when Billy Graham invited people to respond to the message by getting up out of their chairs, kneeling, and praying with him, Andrew hardly expected any response from his friend. But to Andrew’s surprise, his friend got up out of his chair, knelt, and prayed to become a believer.

The lesson for Andrew and for us is that if God sovereignly chooses, he can use our gospel presentation, the external call—no matter how unimpressive—to internally call someone to faith.

Is Evangelism Something God Does? Or Something I Do?

If I want my friend Larry to become a Christian, do I pray to God that the Holy Spirit will open Larry’s heart so that he believes and follows Jesus? Or do I have to tell Larry the gospel and urge Larry to respond to it with faith and repentance? Or is it both God’s work and my efforts that help Larry become a Christian? And how does that happen?

We ask these questions because there is often confusion between the Spirit’s supernatural personal agency and our natural means. These are two real phenomena, but they are complementary rather than contradictory. For example, when we read in Exodus 14:21–22 that God parted the Red Sea, we can ask, “What caused the Red Sea to part?” On the one hand, we have a supernatural explanation: God parted the sea. But on the other, we also have a natural explanation: a wind blew back the sea. And we have an instrumental explanation: Moses stretched out his hand!

What’s really going on here? We have God’s supernatural personal agency performing a miracle with the natural means of the wind, which is orchestrated by the instrumental means of Moses’ stretching out his hand. And it’s the same with evangelism. If God saves my friend Larry, it’s because of the Spirit’s supernatural personal agency opening Larry’s heart with the natural and instrumental means of my telling Larry the gospel. So we shouldn’t pit our efforts against God’s efforts, as if by evangelizing our friends we are not trusting in God’s sovereign power. The opposite is true. In his sovereignty, God uses our human efforts as the natural and instrumental means of converting people into followers of Jesus.

A DEFINITION OF EVANGELISM

After considering all of these factors, we can arrive at this definition of evangelism:

The essence of evangelism is the message that Jesus Christ is Lord. Evangelism is our human effort of proclaiming this message—which necessarily involves using our human communication, language, idioms, metaphors, stories, experiences, personality, emotions, context, culture, locatedness—and trusting and praying that God, in his sovereign will, will supernaturally use our human and natural means to effect his divine purposes.

In a general sense, evangelism refers to our human efforts of proclaiming this message to any audience of believers and nonbelievers. In a narrower sense, evangelism refers to our human efforts of proclaiming this message to nonbelievers. But in both senses, we proclaim the gospel with the hope that our audience responds by trusting, repenting, and following and obeying Jesus.

An earlier book I wrote on preaching, called Preaching as the Word of God, applies something called speech-act theory to the preaching of the gospel.9 Speech-act theory, as developed by J. L. Austin and John Searle, proposes that meaning is located not in the words we say per se but in the speech act that we perform. To speak is to perform an act, and it is a false dichotomy to distinguish between stating facts and performing an action.10

According to J. L. Austin, a speech act consists of three actions:

  1. Locution: the act of saying something. It is the meaning—sense and reference—of what I say.
  2. Illocution: the act in saying something. It is the force—the action performed—of what I say.
  3. Perlocution: the act by saying something. It is the effect—the result—of what I say.

For example, if I say, “Close the door!” the locution is my statement, “Close the door.” The illocution is a command. And the perlocution is that you close the door. But there is a problem with this formulation. Although, as the speaker, I might have an intended perlocution—that you close the door—I can’t guarantee that you will do so. You might ignore me. Or you might close the door.

For this reason, John Searle better formulizes a speech act as F(p). The p refers to the locution—the propositional information being communicated. And the F refers to the illocutionary force—the action performed. According to Searle, a propositional utterance can never exist alone. For example, even if I merely utter, “The door is closed,” I have performed an illocutionary action of uttering. There is no such thing as a free-floating propositional statement. It is always accompanied by an illocutionary force of some sort.

On the flip side, the same p (the information communicated) can be accompanied by multiple, different Fs (the action performed). So, for example, let’s say p is, “The door is closed.” If F is a question, we have, “Is the door closed?” If F is a command, we have, “Close the door.” If F is a promise, we have, “I promise I will close the door.”

What does any of this have to do with evangelism? If we apply this concept to evangelism, then p is the propositional idea that “Jesus is Lord,” or what we refer to in shorthand as the gospel. But what is F? What is the illocutionary force of evangelism? What action are we performing? Here we find more than one answer. Is the action we perform to communicate the gospel teaching, proclaiming, heralding, witnessing, urging, beseeching, calling, commanding, promising, blessing, warning, prophesying, exhorting, edifying, or encouraging?

And more than this. There is more than one way of performing the same speech act. It can be done through utterances, drama, song, poetry, stained-glass windows, puppet shows, and art. This is because the essence of communication is neither the words themselves nor the methods of communication, but the speech act itself.

I hope the answer is clear. The essence of evangelism is the locution—p—the good news of Jesus. It is not defined by its method or audience. And we can even say that evangelism is not entirely defined by its illocutionary force. This implies that we don’t have to restrict our understanding of evangelism to only one illocutionary force. Depending on the audience and context, we are free to choose an appropriate illocutionary force. It might be that we communicate the gospel through urging. Or by encouraging. Or it might be by blessing. Or through a warning. And it can be performed through speaking. Or singing. Or drama. Or a puppet show.

HOW DOES SOMEONE BECOME A CHRISTIAN?

People like to ask how my wife and I met. I usually reply, “Whose story do you want?” Because the reality is that my wife and I have two different perspectives of how we met. Both are true, yet they are different and complementary.

The same principle is at work when we’re asked how someone becomes a Christian. We can reply, “Whose story do you want?” Because God and the convert have two different yet complementary stories to tell.

God’s Side of the Story: I Regenerate Them

From God’s perspective, someone becomes a Christian because God regenerates them. Regeneration literally means “to be born again.” God gives an individual a supernatural new birth in which the new believer moves from spiritual death to a new life (John 3:3; Titus 3:5; 2 Cor. 5:17; 1 Peter 1:3). Although regeneration is instantaneous, it is continuous with God’s other activities in bringing salvation to a believer:

  1. Internal call
  2. Regeneration
  3. Progressive sanctification
  4. Preservation
  5. Glorification

Although it’s useful to distinguish between the different activities, they are all related because they are all supernatural works of God, internal and transformative, and they affect the entire person.

God’s supernatural work of regeneration is effected through the natural means of someone hearing the gospel (James 1:18; 1 Peter 1:23). So we can say that the cause of regeneration is the supernatural work of God, but the instrumental means is someone hearing the gospel. Although regeneration happens through the supernatural and miraculous work of God, it happens through the ordinary speaking of the gospel by finite and fallible people like you and me.

The Power of Words

Philosophers like to talk about the interface between God and his creation. They ask, How does God sustain the universe? How does God do miracles? How does God make it rain? How does God answer prayer? How does God get me to do what he wants?

For a long time, because of the influence of Greek philosopher Aristotle, we talked about the causal link between God and his creation. When God parted the Red Sea, God was the primary cause, but the wind was the secondary cause. But the problem with this model is it treats the entire universe—rocks, plants, animals, angels, humans—as inanimate objects. Human beings are no different from tennis balls bouncing off each other. God is the giant tennis ball, while everything else in the universe, including people, are little tennis balls.

But human beings are more than inanimate objects. We are agents with free will. More than that, we are persons with stories, emotions, and personalities. So how does God interact with persons? How does God get persons to do what he wants?

Well, we might begin to answer this question by asking, ”How does anyone get a person to do something?” Let me give you an example. Once a week, it is my turn to take out the trash. How does my wife get me to take out the trash? If I were an object, she could try throwing a tennis ball at my head. Maybe the force of her throw would move me to take out the trash. But I am more than an object. I am a personal agent with a personality, a story, and free will. My wife gets me to take out the trash with words. “Sam, please take out the trash.” Her words interact with my will, and they move me to action.

If we are persons, then the interface between God and people is a dialogical link rather than merely a causal link. To put it simply, God effects his will with his words.11

God’s creation of the universe begins with words: “Let there be light.” Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead with words: “Lazarus, come out!” And God raises us from our spiritual death into new life with words: the words of the gospel.

The Person’s Side of the Story: I Converted

Conversion is a theological term to describe what a person has to do to be saved. It answers the question asked by the jailer, “What must I do to be saved?” (Acts 16:30). While regeneration describes what God does to save a person, conversion describes what the person needs to do to be saved. Typically, theologians break down the act of conversion into two different but related actions: repentance and faith. And the act of repentance is further divided into two different but related actions: metanoia and epistrophe.

Metanoia

The Greek term metanoia describes a change of heart, character, and disposition. This change has a positive aspect. In the same way that it is good to change out of dirty old clothes into clean new clothes, it is good to have a change of heart, character, or disposition. I remember as a young backpacker the thrill of showering after a weeklong trip and changing into clean clothes. This is a picture of the thrill of a new convert who experiences metanoia: it feels good to be clean again!

I emphasize this because as theologian Anthony Hoekema notes, poor Bible translations have missed this positive aspect. Metanoia was translated as “penance” by the Latin Vulgate and in Luther’s German Bible, and as “remorse” (repentez-vous) in older French Bibles. So our understanding of metanoia through these poor translations became one of sorrow, fear of punishment, and an emotional crisis. True piety was seen as emphasizing regret, remorse, and morbid introspection.12

But the biblical understanding of metanoia is far more positive. Instead of merely looking inward and regretting the past, it is looking outward and forward. When Jesus says, “Repent [metanoieo], for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matt. 4:17), he is saying, “You must change your hearts—for the kingdom of Heaven has arrived” (Phillips). He is calling us to look ahead to the arrival of the kingdom. By being outward and forward looking, metanoia produces fruit (Matt. 3:8), knowledge (2 Tim. 2:25), life (Acts 11:18), and salvation (2 Cor. 7:10).

Epistrophe

The Greek term epistrophe is the second aspect of biblical repentance. It describes a complete turnaround and has both negative and positive aspects: we turn away from something negative and toward something positive. It reminds me of the time I went along a one-way street in the wrong direction, hoping to take a shortcut. Unfortunately, a large truck was heading straight toward me. I had to quickly make a U-turn—a complete turnaround—away from certain collision and toward going the right way on the one-way street.

We read in 1 Thessalonians 1:9 that the Thessalonians “turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God.” And Paul’s mission is to “turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God” (Acts 26:18). Both passages describe a turning away from something negative toward something positive: toward service to God.

But who is responsible for repentance? On the one hand, God grants repentance (Acts 11:18; 2 Tim. 2:25; John 6:65). But on the other hand, the convert must decide to repent (Jer. 25:5). And even (on another hand!) the evangelist contributes to this process, urging the listener toward repentance (2 Tim. 2:25; 2 Cor. 5:20; James 5:20).

Understanding Biblical Faith

In the Bible, the word for faith can be translated into many English words, such as belief, trust, and of course faith (Gen. 15:6; Ps. 25:2; Ps. 57:1; John 3:16; 1 John 3:23). The Reformers identified three aspects of faith. There is propositional knowing (notitia) that includes knowledge and understanding of facts. For example, I know there is scientific data that says exercise is good for me. In the same way, I know that there is a person called Jesus Christ who claims to be the Son of God. But knowing the facts, while important, is not all there is to biblical faith. There is also assent (assensus), where I grant that such claims are true. For example, I acknowledge that exercise really is good for me. In the same way, I acknowledge that Jesus Christ really is the Son of God. So we have knowledge of facts and assent that they are true, but something further is still necessary to have biblical faith. We must also exercise trust (fiducia), making our lives consistent with the truth claims we agree with. For example, I commit myself to exercise, trusting that it is good for me. In the same way, I commit myself to Christ, trusting that he will save me from my sins. The first two aspects are necessary, but not sufficient, for salvation, for even demons know that Jesus is Lord (James 2:19). It is the final aspect—trusting in Jesus—that is necessary for salvation (John 3:16). This is what is commonly called saving faith.

We believe that we are saved by faith and not by works. But if we have saving faith, it will naturally produce good works. If I return to my exercise example, if I know that exercise is good for me, really believe it, and then take steps that reflect this belief, I’ll experience the fruit of my faith: the benefits of exercise. In this sense, we can say that saving faith is always accompanied by works. Or as the Reformers said, we are saved by faith alone, but that faith is never alone.

For example, faith, when it is described in Luke’s Gospel, is always accompanied by action:

Faith is accompanied by high-risk actions, the type that will make you look foolish if you’re wrong. For example, consider the chutzpah of the friends who dug through someone else’s roof to interrupt Jesus by lowering their paralyzed friend into the middle of a large crowd. Someone once told me this would be like interrupting a Beyoncé concert. Or consider the centurion who tells Jesus not to bother to come to his home but to heal his servant with a word. Imagine how silly he would’ve felt if he returned home and found that his servant was still sick. He would’ve had to explain to his disappointed servant why he told Jesus not to bother to come. The centurion’s household would’ve blamed him for the servant’s eventual death. It was a bold and risky move to trust Jesus.

The climactic example of faith in the Gospel of Luke is Zacchaeus (19:1–9). He is the foil to the rich young ruler (18:18) and the Pharisees (16:14) who fail to exercise faith in Jesus. Although the word faith is not used, Zacchaeus demonstrates faith with his actions—running ahead of the crowd, climbing a tree, welcoming Jesus to his home for a meal, and giving away his possessions to the poor. All of this illustrates that while salvation is a free gift from God—it’s not something we earn or merit—the faith required to accept this free gift might prove to be costly. Faith asks us to commit fully to what we believe.

WHAT IS FAITH?

Faith asks us to believe in God. But we can know God only by believing in his Word, in what he has revealed to us. So the character of our faith depends on the nature of God’s revelation. In the history of theology, the debate has swung between understanding God’s revelation as propositional—we have an I-it encounter with God—and as existential—we have an I-Thou encounter with God. In the end, the Bible indicates that it is both. To know God, we have to know the propositions about him. But God is more than a set of propositions; he is also personal. So to know God also means to encounter God existentially and personally.

It is no different when we exercise saving faith. Biblical faith is not less than understanding (notitia) and assenting (assensus) to propositional truths about Jesus. But it is more than that. It requires trust (fiducia) in Jesus as a person. And often trust in Jesus requires us to make a daring existential leap—to get out of our comfort zones and risk our possessions and our reputations.

Who is responsible for faith? Is it a gift or something we have to find within ourselves? On the one hand, the Bible teaches that God grants the believer faith (Eph. 2:8; Phil. 1:29). But on the other hand, the Bible is clear that the convert is responsible to believe (John 3:16; Rom. 3:28). And yet even further (on another hand!), the evangelist’s role is to urge the listener toward belief (John 20:31). We are told that faith comes from hearing the word about Christ (Rom. 10:17).

This raises another question that many are asking today: What is the relationship between conversion and discipleship? Are we always responding with repentance and faith to the gospel? If so, does that mean we’re always converting to Jesus? Or to put it another way, When does conversion end and discipleship begin? The confusion arises because we are using extrabiblical words such as conversion and discipleship to understand different aspects of salvation. And although these aspects are different, they are also continuous with each other. The following table illustrates what I’m talking about:

God’s Actions The Person’s Actions
1. Internal call of the gospel 1. Hears the external call of the gospel
2. Regeneration 2. Conversion (faith and repentance)
3. Progressive sanctification 3. Discipleship (faith and obedience)
4. Preservation 4. Perseverance
5. Glorification

When we talk about conversion, we are speaking of a one-time action. And when we talk about discipleship, we are talking about a repeated activity, a daily action. But they are both actions of the same nature, actions that involve trusting and obeying Jesus. And they are effected by the same agent—the Holy Spirit—by the same means—through the words of the gospel.

That’s why the Bible gives us another motif to understand the Christian life. The Bible speaks of the Christian life as a journey. It has a starting point and a destination, and there is a process of traveling to get to that destination. In this sense, conversion is the decision to begin the journey with Jesus. And discipleship is the decision to continue on this journey with Jesus each day. Every day is a day when we decide to follow Jesus, deny ourselves, and take up our crosses (Luke 9:23).

IS THERE A SINGLE MODEL OF CONVERSION?

Dr. Graham Cole has suggested that the New Testament illustrates for us at least three models of conversion: the story of the prodigal son, the conversion of Saul, and the conversion of Timothy.

The Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11–32)

In Jesus’ parable about the prodigal son, the son is a rebel. He defies and breaks his relationship with his father. He lives a life of willful disobedience, even taking his father’s money and wasting it on prostitutes. Later, facing a crisis, he has an awakening. As a result, he repents and returns to his father, who forgives him.

Real-life examples of this forgiven-rebel model might be John Newton, the former slave trader who wrote the hymn “Amazing Grace,” or Augustine of Hippo, who experienced a similar radical crisis and conversion.

Saul (Acts 9:1–30; 22:1–21; 26:1–23; Gal. 1:11–24)

Saul is a religious zealot (Acts 22:3; Phil. 3:4–6). He fulfills all of his religious duties, even to the point of persecuting enemies of his religion. But he realizes that none of his efforts can make him acceptable to God. He needs a righteousness not of his own but one that comes from Christ (Phil. 3:7–9).

A later example of a religious person who senses the inadequacy of their efforts and need for God might be Martin Luther, who was an Augustinian monk. In an act of zeal, Luther allegedly crawled up the steps of the Scala Sancta, kissing each step, hoping to find atonement. But he found nothing in his acts of contrition. Then, as he read the Psalms and Romans, he discovered that God had promised him a righteousness not of his own but from Christ.

Timothy (2 Tim. 1:5; 3:15)

Timothy was born into a believing family, and Paul tells us Timothy had a “sincere faith” (1:5) that first lived in his grandmother Lois and his mother, Eunice. He was raised to know the Scriptures since he was an infant and, as a result, presumably had a saving faith in Jesus since infancy also (3:15). If we could ask Timothy when he came to have a relationship with God, he might say that he cannot remember a moment when he did not know him. For his whole life, he has believed, followed, and prayed to Jesus.

I would list myself as an example of this model of conversion. I was raised by believing parents, and I can’t identify a moment when I had to repent from unbelief. I can’t describe a distinct decision to follow Jesus. For as long as I can remember, I have believed, followed, and prayed to Jesus. This doesn’t mean that I have not needed to confess and repent of my sin. It simply means that I have been on a lifelong journey of repentance and discipleship.

Learning from the Three Models of Conversion

In addition to there being three different models of conversion in the Bible—the rebel, the zealot, and the believer since infancy—we can say that there also are different experiences of conversion. The rebel and the zealot had a moment when “the lights came on” and they believed. But the believer since infancy can’t point to such a decisive moment.

There also are different gospel metaphors. (We’ll say more about this in a later chapter.) The rebel needs to hear that they have transgressed God’s laws. The zealot needs to hear that they fall short of God’s holiness. The believer since infancy needs to hear that they remain in Christ. All of this suggests that the experience of conversion is not one size fits all.

IS THERE A SINGLE MODEL FOR EVANGELISM?

One common question that arises is whether there is a single biblical way to do evangelism. As you might guess, I believe the answer is no. Pastor and author Timothy Keller, in a sermon called “Changed Lives,” gives several reasons. Keller believes Acts 16 illustrates at least three different models for evangelism: Paul’s evangelizing of Lydia, of the slave girl, and of the Philippian jailer. In this section, I have imaginatively expanded on these three to give us a sense of how they present models for us today.13

Lydia (Acts 16:13–15)

Lydia is an Asian woman from Turkey living in the “European” city of Philippi. Socioeconomically, she is a rich, successful, and powerful businesswoman. She owns a home. She mixes with the fashionable, wealthy, and social elites. If she lived today, she would be a successful businesswoman living in the inner suburbs of a large city, importing and selling the latest fashions from Asia. At night she would dine in fine restaurants and mix with the A-list crowd.

Lydia is a cognitive thinker. She needs facts, evidence, and discussion. She prefers that someone give her a logical presentation of ideas. She is persuaded by a well-reasoned argument. Though we don’t know all of the details of her life, we can picture her as someone who does her best to be a good person. Perhaps she believes that there is some sort of God of the universe and that there must be laws and moral absolutes. She is aware of the need for social justice. She donates to worthy causes, but she also has a spiritual yearning. Lately she has been exploring different faiths. Presently, she is a “worshiper of God”—checking out the Christian faith—with some Christian friends.

Her business is successful. She is respected by her peers. Her children no longer live at home with her and are scattered in countries around the world. But existentially, her life is aimless. There are no more worlds to conquer. If we had to identify an idol in her life, it would be her wealth, which gives her status among her A-list friends. With it, she is somebody. But without it, she would be nobody. This leaves her trapped. Her lifestyle owns her, and she can’t walk away from it.

How do we evangelize someone like Lydia? Paul’s model of evangelism to her is a reasoned discussion (vv. 13–14). He makes an appeal to her mind.

Slave Girl (Acts 16:16–21)

The slave girl in Acts 16 is Greek, having grown up in the local culture. Socioeconomically she’s in one of the lower castes—exploited, outcast, powerless. Her owners take advantage of her, often treating her cruelly. She has no home and sleeps in the hostels. Today, she would be the equivalent of a sex worker on the streets of the red-light district of a large city. She’s the regular drug user who has never dined in a fine restaurant. If she’s lucky, her pimp might give her a slice of pizza or a falafel roll.

She is an intuitive thinker. She needs emotions and feelings. She is persuaded by transcendent experiences. But she is rarely allowed to think for herself. She’s often being told what to do by the men in her life—her boyfriend, pimp, and suppliers.

Spiritually, she is demon possessed. Religiously, she experiments in the occult—in witchcraft, tarot cards, fortune telling. Existentially, she is in a dark place. Her life is out of control, leaving her in despair and torment. Her idols are living ones. She is under the control of the evil spirit in her. She is also under the control of her owners. Ironically, without these owners, her life would spiral further out of control. She needs the owners to give her structure and accountability.

How do we evangelize someone like this slave girl? Paul’s model of evangelism to her is a power encounter (v. 18). Paul casts out the evil spirit from her. She has a transcendent experience with Jesus. Jesus proves to be stronger than all the powers in her life—the evil spirit and the owners. Paul makes an appeal to her heart.

The Jailer (Acts 16:22–34)

The jailer of the town of Philippi is probably a Roman citizen, because most of the good civil-service jobs were given to retired Roman soldiers. Socioeconomically, he is an honest member of the working class. He works hard to support his family and to pay off their modest house.

Today, he would be seen as a low-skill worker in a government institution. He could be the janitor in the library, a landscaper or a tradesman, or a security guard at the hospital. He lives in the outer suburbs where the houses are cheaper and has a long commute each day. For a treat, he takes his family out for a meal at a fast-food restaurant.

The jailer is a concrete-relational thinker. He wants to learn only things that are practical. He is persuaded by stories, especially stories that show how things work in someone’s life. He is impatient with abstract theories, propositions, and arguments. And he hates appeals to emotion, which he finds manipulative. The jailer does his best to be a good husband, father, and worker. He is motivated by duty, honor, and tradition. He never takes a sick day. He pays his taxes. He is always on time.

Spiritually, the jailer is not searching. He believes in God but has no warm personal relationship with him. He figures that as long as he has been a dutiful husband and father, he’ll be okay. Religiously, he hates church. Church does nothing for him. The sermons are long and boring. The singing is emotional and awkward. And everything is so effeminate—music, flowers, and cupcakes. He might turn up at church on Christmas and Easter, but only out of duty. Apart from that, he’s just not interested in it. His idol is his reputation. If he failed in his marriage or at his job, the shame would kill him. It almost does just that. When the prisoners appear to have escaped and he senses that he has failed in his duty, he tries to kill himself (v. 27).

How do we evangelize someone like the jailer? Paul’s model of evangelism to him is the example of his own life: Paul and Silas are so fulfilled that they can happily remain in jail (v. 28). Paul and Silas have something that the jailer is looking for. In desperation, the jailer asks them, “What must I do to be saved?” (v. 30). Paul appeals by example.

Learning from the Three Models of Evangelism

We imaginatively explored three different models of evangelism in Acts 16. Cognitive thinkers are persuaded by a reasoned discussion. They need to think about the gospel. We reach them with a logical presentation of ideas. Intuitive thinkers are persuaded by emotions. They need to sense the awe of the gospel. We reach them with events and transcendental experiences. Concrete-relational thinkers are persuaded by stories. They need to see how the gospel works. We reach them with the example of our lives.

Often we wonder why we’re not effective in reaching one particular audience—professionals or teenagers or tradespeople or retirees. The reason is that there is no one-size-fits-all model for our evangelism. We have different audiences with different thinking and learning styles, different socioeconomic groupings, and different existential entry points. So we should be prepared to engage in a wider variety of models of evangelism. We should also not be so quick to criticize others’ models. They might be evangelizing an audience different from ours. And we should be humble about our own models, because they might not be as transferrable to other audiences as we think they are.

CONCLUSION

We began this chapter with Anne’s story. Anne reads to the play group stories from the Bible along with other stories, but the other Christian parents are complaining that she’s not doing any evangelism. They are impatient with her use of stories, crafts, and coffee. They wonder why she won’t hurry up and get to the point about Jesus’ dying for sinners on a cross. Why doesn’t she pull out her Four Spiritual Laws booklet and just share the gospel with the kids?

In this chapter, we have explored and defined several terms. We’ve seen that the essence of evangelism is its message, the gospel of Jesus Christ. Evangelism is defined by its message, not by its method, medium, or audience. We’ve also seen that there are different models of evangelism in the Bible: sometimes it’s a logical presentation of ideas, sometimes it’s an event with emotional impact, and sometimes it’s through stories. There are also different models of conversion: different people have different experiences of God’s regenerating work. Also, people will be persuaded in different ways: through logic, experiences, or personal examples. And different people will have different existential entry points to knowing Jesus.

So the challenge for us when we evangelize is to be open to different methods, mediums, and entry points. We don’t have to evangelize the same way that we were evangelized. And we don’t have to impose our learning styles on other people.

Evangelism is an activity in which we communicate the gospel of Jesus Christ in our natural, mundane, and ordinary presentations. But God uses our gospel presentations as natural means for his supernatural regenerating work. This keeps us humble about our abilities. But it also encourages us to keep doing the work of an evangelist, because if God so wills it, he will use our words to move someone from death to life.

Gray image of the globe map. When Can We Call Someone a Christian?

For a summary of three different ways to approach this question, download the PDF from ZondervanAcademic.com.

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1. For more on this double aspect—good news and bad news—of the gospel, see Broughton Knox, “What Is the Gospel?” The Briefing 343 (April 2007), 10–13.

2. Douglas Moo, The Epistle to the Romans, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1996), 43n16.

3. Moo, Epistle to the Romans, 43n16.

4. Klaas Runia, “What Is Preaching according to the New Testament?” Tyndale Bulletin 29 (1978): 3–48.

5. For a further critique of Dodd’s thesis, see Runia, “What Is Preaching?” 13–16.

6. Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology (Leicester, UK: Inter-Varsity, 1994).

7. I owe this observation to a talk I heard by Timothy Keller called “Dwelling in the Gospel,” presented at the New York City Dwell Conference, April 30, 2008.

8. Timothy Keller borrows this from Simon Gathercole. This is from Keller’s talk “Dwelling in the Gospel.”

9. My work was inspired by Kevin Vanhoozer’s Is There a Meaning in This Text? The Bible, the Reader, and the Morality of Literary Knowledge (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 1998).

10. Sam Chan, Preaching as the Word of God: Answering an Old Question with Speech-Act Theory (Eugene, Ore.: Pickwick, 2016); Vanhoozer, Is There a Meaning in This Text? The Bible, the Reader, and the Morality of Literary Knowledge (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 1998); J. L. Austin, How to Do Things with Words: The William James Lectures Delivered at Harvard University in 1955, ed. J. O. Urmson and Marina Sbisa (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1962); John R. Searle, Speech Acts: An Essay in the Philosophy of Language (New York: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1969).

11. I owe these observations to teachings that I absorbed in various lectures from Graham Cole and Kevin Vanhoozer during my time as a student at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, Deerfield, Illinois.

12. Anthony Hoekema, Saved by Grace (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1994), 124–25.

13. For this section, I have loosely appropriated and adapted ideas from Timothy Keller’s sermon “Changed Lives.” Admittedly, our observations go beyond what is specified in Acts 16, but I think they are within the imaginative possibilities of Acts 16. Timothy Keller, “Changed Lives,” sermon preached at Redeemer Presbyterian Church, March 22, 1998, http://www.sermoncloud.com/redeemer-presbyterian/changed-lives. Accessed June 10, 2016.