For a long time, scientists studied the fossilized remains of an ancient fish called the Coelacanth.  Their assumption was that it had vanished along with the dinosaurs.  Then in 1938, a boat crew captured a specimen of this bulldog of a fish alive and well off the coast of South Africa.

Today we know the Coelacanth isn’t extinct, just rare.

It’s kind of like contemporary Christians who have witnessed to someone concerning Christ.  They’re out there, but rare.  At least, rarer than we’d like.

I don’t claim to have professional statistics on the subject.  But over my spread of forty years in and around churches, the  number of believers I’ve met who have engaged their non-Christian friends in substantial conversations about their faith tends to be small.  

The number one complaint always seems to be, “I don’t know how to do it.”   Therefore, the church at large has responded with training programs, workshops, workbooks, and strategies.  Decades ago, my own network of churches even mounted a massive door-to-door evangelism effort.  

It didn’t help that we adopted a dress code of shirts and ties, and tried to read literature to people through their screen doors.  At times, our neighborhoods had trouble differentiating groups of us from Jehovah’s Witnesses or Mormons.  

When the whole thing blew over, we felt like we’d put enough hours into outreach to last a lifetime.  We were exhausted, and to make matters worse, we didn’t see the gospel revival we’d been promised. Worst of all, most of us felt we’d been corralled into an exercise dreadfully mismatched with our personalities.  We went back to hiding in plain sight.  

If all the studies are correct, extroverts, those outspoken, socially-tuned souls, are a minority among personality types.  For some reason, though, evangelistic strategies seem to overwhelmingly cater to them.    The majority of us are wired some place on the introvert scale.  At one end of that spectrum are the painfully shy; at the other, those who are high functioning communicators, but still textbook introverts.  When we adopt plans designed for folks who are on completely different wavelengths, it is tantamount to putting on someone else’s armor (c.f. 1 Sam. 17).  It isn’t going to work.

I’m a high-functioning introvert, which means I’ve become familiar with the objections introverts in general have toward gospel preaching.  

“I would rather not talk to people about Jesus; I prefer to show my faith through my life and deeds.”

“Sharing Jesus with people is not my ministry/gift/strength area; I don’t want to pressure myself into something I don’t feel comfortable doing.”

“I’m not knowledgeable enough/mature enough as a Christian to tell other people about Christ; I’d rather be quiet than risk preaching incorrectly.”

If you operate subconsciously under the influence of any of those philosophies, let me respectfully suggest from one introvert to another, that you reconsider your position.

This doesn’t mean we should adopt synthetic bluster, and pretend to be like our extroverted brethren.    Instead, let’s take a knee for a moment, and think through how obedience to “preach the gospel to all creation” might look for a typical introvert.

“I’d Rather Show My Faith through My Life and Deeds”

First, kudos to you for showing your faith through your works.  The evangelical community badly needs more behavioral consistency to go along with their words.  

But works are not a substitute for words.

St. Francis of Assisi was purported to have said, “Preach the gospel by all means and if necessary use words.”  We love the sentiments expressed in that quote, because it sounds noble, and directs us to the difficulty of doing instead of talking.  Besides, it resonates with many of us who would rather not say anything, anyway.

The quote is pithy, and memorable, but mostly wrong.  Of course we have to use words in our preaching.  They are not a last resort.  The apostles didn’t silently go from place to place painting houses and digging water wells, only to leave puzzled residents to conclude, Must’ve been a relief effort from the local synagogue!  No, they began with words and then let their manner of life confirm their message.

Before James instructed us to show faith through works in chapter 2 of his book, he told us in chapter 1 that we were “brought forth—[regenerated]—by the word of truth” (v. 18).  Someone had to say something in order to stimulate saving faith in us.  An example of godly living did not save us, nor did the good works of other human beings save us, either.

Works no doubt lend credibility to the gospel, but they cannot replace it.  Someone has to mention Jesus.  The cross.  Resurrection.   Paul asks, “How are they to hear without someone preaching?” (Rom. 10:14).

This all establishes the primacy of spoken word, but happily for us introverts, none of it necessitates becoming a fast talker, a social butterfly, or a debate captain.  We’ve often associated evangelism with such things.  Relax.  There’s no need to make this harder than what it is.  For the moment, remember that a timely word of truth is sufficient, even if there’s not a lot of fancy follow-up.  

“This Isn’t My Ministry/Gift/Strength Area”

Talking isn’t your bag.  I sympathize, but to some extent it’s unavoidable.  First, Jesus told us we would be His witnesses (Acts 1:8).  Later, when the Holy Spirit fell on the church, represented by the first 120 Christians in that upper room, it was visibly symbolized as tongues of fire, not hands, feet, tools, wallets, etc. (Acts 2:3).  The intended means of witnessing for Him would chiefly come through words, from both  introverts as well as extroverts.

Jesus knows that most people prefer not to be some kind of promoter.  He knew most of His followers would find it awkward to broach spiritual topics, especially toward potentially hostile people.  

Regardless, He planned gospel ministry this way, so the power of salvation would reside in the Spirit and the Word, not the persuasive abilities of the person doing the preaching.  Actually, silver-tongued, glib gospel preachers run the risk of eclipsing glory that should only go to God.  Many gifted speakers have crashed on the rocks of pride.  It’s not just the introvert who has issues with speaking to other people.  

Thankfully, Jesus isn’t shocked that your personality prefers a more comfortable way of sharing the gospel than the use of your mouth.  He knows what lies at the core of our silence.  Maybe we’re just ashamed of Him, or scared of persecution, or afraid we’ll lose a friend or a romantic interest.  Perhaps we don’t want to be singled out as the office religious freak, or marginalized by professional colleagues.

Whatever the case, Jesus doesn’t hate us over it.  Instead, His gentle, powerful hand will go to work providing chances to open your mouth on His behalf,  perhaps hundreds of them throughout the time you have left on the earth.  You’ll be surprised to see conversations develop from which you can’t escape, where the topic unerringly leads to Christ.  Maybe you’ll feel like a calf being roped by a cowboy, squirming in the moment, telling yourself, This isn’t my gift!

And when it’s over, and you did your best, you’ll perhaps be even more certain that evangelism isn’t your gift.  Still, a certain joy will surge through your heart. Those twenty-five words spoken to a friend at a softball game will invigorate you more than twenty-five days spent in the familiar comfort of what you consider to be your truer gift.

“I Don’t Know Enough”

You’re right.  You don’t know enough.  Relatively speaking, no one does.  By all means, strive to make up your knowledge deficit by studying your Bible and good spiritual books.  Attend church meetings, listen, take notes, and get help from godly mentors.  If you’re not doing that, your complaint of not knowing enough is hollow.  

Even if we are pursuing a greater grasp of God and His Word, we’re not supposed to wait until perfection before we attempt to open our mouths.  Apollos set about preaching and teaching with an imperfect knowledge of Christ.  He didn’t wait until he arrived at some pre-set standard.

To his credit, Apollos had a teachable spirit.  On one occasion after preaching, Priscilla and Aquilla “took him aside and explained to him the way of God more accurately” (Acts  18:26).  Imagine that—a preacher who was celebrated in Scripture as one who “greatly helped those who had believed” (c.f. Acts 18:27), needed to learn more, himself.

You haven’t been called to deliver beautiful, flawless infomercials.  You’ve been told to share good news, and sometimes this means it won’t come across as complete and polished as your favorite preacher.  

In fact, your gospel will often get mixed into a conversation casserole of sorts, blending with the dialogue you’re having with that other person.  Expect interruptions like, Sorry, I have to take this call.  Of course, you can count on distractions, as well—Do you think the Browns will go to the Superbowl before Christ returns?  There’ll be questions—What do you mean by the word ‘sin’? And insertions—Jesus rising from the dead reminds me of something I saw in a movie once! 

You’ll feel your message is all broken up, like salt sprinkled on French fries.  Thankfully for you though, the pressure is off to “hold the floor.” Introverts don’t much care for filibusters, anyway.

Be sure to read the next few installments of introvert-driven evangelism.  In the meantime, let’s not make evangelism harder than it already is.  Besides, God delights in sounding out His message through quiet folks, and doesn’t want them discouraged.  It would be a shame if we became any more rare than we already are.