Be my witness

 In our Wednesday night  home groups, we are wrestling with what it actually means to be a witness to the Gospel and proclaim Jesus as Lord. Let’s be honest: we live in a post-Christian world. In some places, telling people you follow Jesus gets you the same look you’d get if you announced you still use a dial-up modem.

Now, some might look back fondly on the "good old days" when pews were packed. But let’s be real—half those people were probably only there because Sunday lunch was at grandma’s right after, or because skipping church meant the neighbors would gossip. Pope Benedict XVI famously suggested that a smaller, more committed Church might not be a bad thing. In other words: quality over quantity. Better to have a room full of actual disciples than a mega-crowd of people who just showed up for the free heating.

When we get dismissed at the end of a service, we aren't being sent out on a high-stakes undercover mission. Our primary job isn't to buy a megaphone, stand on a milk crate at the bus stop, and yell at strangers. Most of us aren't built for street preaching, and frankly, the strangers at the bus stop aren't built for it either.

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus says, "Go into all the world and proclaim the good news." "Gospel" literally means Good News. And the absolute best way to deliver good news is by simply not being a nightmare to be around.

St. Paul reminds us that we all have different gifts. If your gift isn't theological debate, that’s fine! Maybe your gift is making a sausage roll so legendary that people glimpse the Kingdom of God in the puff pastry.

Proclaiming the Gospel happens in the tiny, unglamorous details:

  • Serving the post-service tea and coffee without rolling your eyes when someone asks for oat milk.
  • Smiling gracefully when the AV system inevitably crashes mid-hymn.
  • Doing the Bible reading without sounding like a GPS voice.
  • Babysitting the grandchildren without losing your sanity.
  • Cooking dinner, watching TV, laughing at terrible jokes, or just being present when a friend is having a rough day.

There’s an old hymn that goes, "They will know we are Christians by our love." They won't know us by our flawless arguments or our perfect church attendance records; they’ll know us by how we treat people when life gets messy.

So when someone eventually asks, "Why are you being so surprisingly nice to me?" you can just smile and say, "Honestly? It’s a Jesus thing."

 

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