I live in downtown Chicago, so I do a lot of walking. One of my usual routes takes me through a busy shopping district. Even though my favorite stores are on the east side of the street, I usually cross to avoid that guy with the microphone.

   

I have to decide if I want to hear why I and my street-mates are all going to go to hell today. Maybe it’s because one of us is smoking, holding hands with the wrong person, or wearing clothes he doesn’t approve of.

Picture this: You’re busy running errands, carrying your latte, minding your own business, and the next thing you know, a guy with a microphone is talking to you: “That caffeine you’re drinking is going to lead to no good!” he preaches. “As it says in the Bible: You can’t drink caffeine if you want to go to heaven!”

The real good news doesn’t make people want to cross the street
A lot of people think all Christians are as obnoxious as that guy with the microphone, and so many of us are reluctant to share our faith. But in Genesis 12 we hear that God blesses us to be a blessing. And if that’s true, then as we share our faith, people won’t cross the street to get away from us.

Frankly, I don’t remember Jesus telling many people they were going to hell. Jesus came with the good news of God’s unending, radical, life-changing love, and called us to be witnesses to it.

This isn’t complicated, and it shouldn’t be scary. From the beginning we have had one assignment: We are blessed to be a blessing. On campus, at work, in the park, at the grocery store, or simply making dinner for our family, we are blessed to be a blessing.

Author Leonard Sweet says that the early Christian church grew as fast as it did because it out-loved and out-served its pagan neighbor. If it’s true, as Luke 6 reminds us, that it is “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks,” then out-loving and out-serving our neighbors should come naturally to us.

   
     

The good news that you have to share is, at least in part, your own story. Maybe it’s that you didn’t feel alone when a parent passed away because people were praying for you. Or the way you felt helping to build a Habitat for Humanity house when you knew God had used you to make someone’s life a little bit better. Your story about how God is at work in and through you is the good news you have to share.

Some of us might worry that we’ll scare off our friends, neighbors, and coworkers if we start talking about Jesus or church or the faith that gives us life. But we have good news to share!

The church is who we are, not a place we go
Many of us also suffer from a basic misunderstanding of what it means to be the church. We’re used to thinking of church as a place we go instead of as something we are. We are the church, wherever we find ourselves. When church is a place you go, it is also a place you leave. And as soon as you’re out the door, you’re arguing with your spouse and cutting someone off in traffic as you leave the parking lot. We don’t think of sharing our faith with friends, neighbors, and co-workers, because faith sharing is something that only happens at church. We figure it’s best left up to church professionals.

Picture this: You help create a recycling program in your neighborhood because you care about what we leave behind on this earth. And when your neighbors and classmates ask why you’re doing this, you take the opportunity to actually tell them. Maybe you tell them that you think you really can create a little heaven right here on earth. It’s your call, your passion, your faith in action.

So what is your vocation? What do you “do”?
Sharing our faith becomes easy when we know that the church is
people — not a building we go to now and then, but people who know that their lives matter and that they are called to make a difference in the lives of their neighbors.
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Visit the study page for ideas for discussion and further reflection.

Some months ago, a college friend and I went to a popular local establishment where folks like to socialize. My friend, who had just moved back to the Twin Cities after living many years in New York City, was eager to meet people. We wound up talking to some guys who looked to be around our age. The career question surfaced quickly: “So what do you do?” My friend, who does not attend church regularly, answered for herself and then for me. “She’s a Lutheran pastor!”

“A what?” came the response.

After the initial shock wore off, one of the guys, who was working on a Ph.D. in history, sat down next to me and said, “So let me get this straight. You believe that Jesus is the son of God?” I stammered, wondering if the Jesus in whom I put my faith was the same Jesus this guy had in mind.

“Well,” I said, “yes, but I’m not sure we mean the same thing when we say ‘believe’ and ‘Jesus’ and ‘Son of God.’” He was an atheist, he said, and he couldn’t believe he was face to face with someone who claimed to “believe.”

He asked again, “So, you’re saying you believe Jesus is the savior of the world?” “Well,” I said, “yes, but I really want to unpack all those terms.” I felt bad for my friend, worried that my inescapable public identity as a religious person would ruin our chances for having any fun. But by the end of the night, we’d all engaged in a long, lively, and authentic dialogue about religion, Christianity, and ultimate questions. We even exchanged phone numbers.

After that, I will go to the king, though it is against the law; and if I perish, I perish. (Esther 4:16b)

Though their contexts are far removed from ours chronologically and culturally, biblical characters also experienced the tension of living a public faith. For both Jews and Christians, public expression of faith could and did result in far greater consequences than being pressed on one’s beliefs in a bar.

Esther’s is a unique and difficult story. It is the only book in the Bible in which the name of God never appears. A Jewish woman in a society not kind to Jews, Esther wins the favor of the Persian king and rises to take the place of the queen. Esther hides her identity as a Jew until faced with a decision, referenced above, to risk her life in order to save her people, for whom the highest of the king’s officials had decreed total annihilation. Esther is able to reverse the decree, and the Jews are not killed.

Though filled with violence and vengeance, the story of Esther raises compelling questions about concealing and disclosing one’s identity and faith. Are there times when concealing our faith serves a higher good? How much are we willing to risk to be open about our identity as people of faith?

In World War II, German Lutheran pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer at times feigned fidelity to the Third Reich in order to hide his illegal activity within the Confessing Church, which opposed Hitler’s regime. Though his association with the Church was known, Bonhoeffer concealed his true allegiances in order to serve in a plot to assassinate Hitler. The plot failed, and Bonhoeffer was hanged.

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