Daily Episcopalian

By Emily M. D. Scott

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshipped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."

Matthew 28:16-20

Graduating from Divinity School, some friends and I had the bright idea to spell out the word “R-E-P-E-N-T” on the top of our mortar boards. Assembled together (and in the right order!) we poked fun at a stereotype of Christians: the crazed evangelist on the city street corner, wearing his sandwich board and waving his leaflets. Though our act was lighthearted, it pointed out our own discomfort with our religious tradition. We’re not those people, we were saying. And we have enough distance from them that we can make fun of them.

After the street corner-sandwich board image, when I think of “evangelist,” I see John the Baptist staggering from the wilderness in his wild and wooly state, warning the people of Israel to prepare the way. My third connotation with the word is that of the earnest Christian, usually more theologically and politically conservative than me, who speaks in a heartfelt way of the love of Jesus, and warmly invites me to his church. I appreciate his generous desire to bring me into the fold, but, to be honest, am often suspicious of his invitation. His freshly shaven face, crisp shirt and relentlessly cheerful demeanor causes me to wonder if the whole of who I am would be embraced at his church Sunday morning: my sarcasm, my doubt, my ambition, my irreverence. Politics and theology aside, I suspect that he will soon ask me to give up some part of myself (and the culture I both embrace and confront) to be “good.”

I live in New York City and I’m 28 years old. The people I meet at bars or at parties are artists, musicians, designers, and writers. Often, they seem to physically take a step back from me when I tell them I work at a church. Their heads tilt slightly to the side and their brows furrow in suspicion as they try to figure out if I’m suddenly going to spring some Jesus speech on them. They’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to see if I’m just pretending to be a normal human being and if I’m actually here in this bar for some other reason. I’ve learned how to get through these uncomfortable moments with as much ease as possible, explaining quickly that my church is progressive. Often I’ll laughingly say, “But don’t worry, I’m not creepy.” I may be laughing, but I’m not actually joking. For some of the folks I talk to, the disconnect is not easily overcome. They look shocked when I swear or make crass jokes. They seem to think they need to be careful or delicate around me and avoid talking about sex. We could write volumes on the theological implications of this response – the ways in which Christians have come to see themselves as needing to be in some way protected from the realities of the secular world. Reading of Jesus sitting down to eat with prostitutes and tax collectors, I wonder that people should be so shocked to meet a church goer at a bar on the Lower East Side. But this seems to be the expectation. The people I meet seem to think that they need to be “good” when they’re around me … when all I want them to be is honest. Honest, and figuring things out.

And so the question becomes: what does it mean to be an evangelist in our current cultural context? When the simple act of inviting someone to church can be so easily seen as a judgmental deceit, an aggressive attack or a desire to co-opt, how do we live our lives as evangelists, sharing the Good News with all people?

I’m the founder of a congregation in New York City called St. Lydia’s. We’re in the very beginning stages of this thing, and I don’t know that it will be successful. I only know that God is calling me to do this, and I’ve decided to listen. Along the way, I’ve learned something important things about evangelism: in a bar on the Lower East Side in New York City, the most powerful tool of evangelism is not inviting someone to church. In a bar on the Lower East Side of New York City, good evangelism does not have to be about preaching, proclaiming, pamphletting, or proselytizing. It is about relationships.

Return in your mind to that bar stool where I sit talking with some pour soul who doesn’t realize I’m a Christian. He asks me what I do. I drop the bomb. He looks at me suspiciously. I tell him my church is very progressive. I don’t invite him to church. He says, “So you don’t hate gay people?” I say no. I love gay people. I don’t invite him to church. He asks me what it means to be a liturgist. I tell him it’s like being a director and dramaturg in the theatre, but everyone gets to participate. I don’t invite him to church. We get started talking about theatre. I don’t invite him to church.

You get the idea. And though this is a caricature of an interaction I might have on a Friday night, like a caricature, it is an exaggeration of the truth.

What happens next on that bar stool is key to reworking our understanding of evangelism.

1. We wrap up our conversation and go our separate ways. My new friend has a new (and positive) impression of at least one Christian, which, in and of itself, is a work of the Spirit. 2. We wrap up our conversation, but run into each other again – even become friends. Somewhere along the line, my new friend and I start talking about life and how it unfolds, maybe God, maybe community, maybe doubt. It’s not a formal relationship, but one day he begins to joke that I’m his spiritual advisor. I have a number of people like this in my life, and I’ve never once (other than to hear me preach) invited any of them to church. This is not to say that they will never want to come. But I believe that they will tell me if they’d like to. 3. We continue talking. We talk a lot. About faith and doubt and God and relationships. And at some point he opens a door and says something like, “You know, I’ve really been looking for a place to have this conversation.” And then I invite him to church. In context. These are the people who are coming to St. Lydia’s.
Often we think that evangelism is all about converting the unconverted. My experience has been that it’s all about reaching out to people who are looking for something that they can’t find. St. Lydia’s has been designed around filling that need. We’re building our congregation around the idea that there are people out there who are desperately seeking God, and haven’t found a Church to do that with.

In all three cases above, evangelizing – bringing the Good News – is not about convincing someone to believe in Jesus. It’s about bearing witness to what God has done with the whole of our existence, within the context of our cultures and the patterns of our lives. I bear witness to my Good News every time I sit on a bar stool on the Lower East Side and meet some new people, because that’s what I like to do. Through that act, which is fully and wholly natural to me, I’m telling a story of how God doesn’t need me to hide from the world within the confines of the Church, but to be a part of the whole of the world around me. I bear witness to my Good News every time I’m sarcastic, edgy, questioning, breaking the stereotype of a “good Christian girl.” I’m telling a story of a God who gave us brains and guts and bodies so that we could use them to love the world. I bear witness to my Good News every time I refrain from invitation, and try, instead, to listen. I’m telling a story of how God’s love is so deep and so wide that she doesn’t ask me to change people, but to walk with them, trusting that that she will do her work naturally, easily, in the context of relationship.

Emily M. D. Scott is a lay liturgist and an Episcopalian. She is currently the Director of Worship at The Riverside Church in New York City, and the founder of a budding congregation called St. Lydia’s, that meets weekly in Manhattan. She is a graduate of Yale Divinity School and the Institute of Sacred Music, and a member of the Associated Parishes for Liturgy and Mission (APLM). She may be reached at emilymdscott@gmail.com.

Comments (12)

Emily, I love this take on evangelism. You situate it so clearly in ordinary human relationships--where God walks and works and loves with us. When we simply bear witness to that good news, we respect the mystery of how God and people find each other, instead of acting like we could control that process. Thank you!

Posted by Beth Hoffman Reed | June 1, 2009 10:16 AM

Very nicely written, Emily. I've had a similar experience in New York - my friends know that I'm a Christian (which is very rare in my circles), and I'm surprised how often folks come to me to talk about spiritual matters. The first time someone asked me to hear a confession was at 3am in a bar, and it was one of the most sacramental experiences I've ever had.

Both Anglicanism and the emergent church have a vision of the gospel being rooted in community rather than in personal salvation, and your take on evangelism captures this perfectly. Thanks!

Posted by Isaac Everett | June 1, 2009 1:14 PM

There is much that intrigues me about what you describe, and there is much I agree with...mainly about evangelism-in-context, listening as core, avoiding the "sell" as if the Gospel were a product, and also making sure that the conversation does not turn into a transaction: "if you do this (come to Church, or come to Jesus), I (or God) will do something for you."

You touch on issues I think a lot about in terms of evangelism, especially the tendency to confuse technique for content. I believe that many people are turned off not by the message but by the rude, intrusive or even abusive ways the message is conveyed. On all this, I applaud you and your work.

Here is the question that keeps jumping out at me as I read your piece:

I see a lot of what you are not in your case studies. You are not creepy. You are not "a good Christian girl." You are not the stereotype of the Church or whatever.

We know what you are not. So what are you?

What is the content of the Good News you share? How or when is that content shared? When does the content of the Gospel enter into the conversation and process of the person who is searching?

Or is it every person for themselves?

Andrew Gerns

Posted by ATGerns | June 1, 2009 1:16 PM

Thanks, Emily, for your article.

As a fellow-member of the Council of The Associated Parishes for Liturgy and Mission, I do know something about your next step. However, I understand why Andrew Gerns is questioning. Would you consider preparing another piece, this time about St. Lydia's?

I understand how you gather folk to prepare and enjoy a meal, and what is the next stage of evangelization. I know that you do this important work in addition to your "day job".

So please tell us more about the ministry of St. Lydia's, and perhaps you choose the name.

Nigel A. Renton
Berkeley, California

Posted by Nitpicker | June 1, 2009 2:30 PM

Emily, thank you for sharing your thoughts on evangelism. I am in agreement with you that we need to build relationships first. Jesus met the people where they were at and listened to them and shared with them.

I have just introduced the idea to the parish about learning how to tell our stories to others at the appropriate time. In that way we are not saying to those whom we meet, "you need Jesus in your life because this is what Jesus can do . . ." or the simple question of "come to church?" Why should they?? Learning to share our faith stories on how Jesus has worked in our lives and allow them to see what changes this has brought about in us. I think it also calls for a change in us who are older to be able to share the story about how angry we have been at God and questioning why things are happening the way they are and not feeling like we are abandoning God as we do so. (The joys of being raised to believe we are never to be angry at God.) This gives others the opportunity to ask questions if they are interested or it may be the beginning to help them find what they are looking for.

We are called to plant the seeds and leave the rest in God's hands just as Beth said. By sharing in this way, openly, friendly and truthfully we build upon the relationship with those in our community and I believe that is where we need to start.

Then for those who feel compelled to continue their journey and join us in the church, we need to take the time to teach them what it means to be a disciple of Christ's and don't leave them stranded in the unknown in the pew.

(Editor's note: Thanks, Kim. We need your full name next time.)

Posted by Kim | June 1, 2009 3:01 PM

Emily -- thank you for posting your ponders. You'll laugh, but I've invited a few people to 'your church', never having joined you myself. I have faith in your faith and your welcome. Perhaps one day one will wander in -- or peek at some of your info online.

I've been an 'out' Christian for a long time, and get less of a shock response from friends than I used to. Part of that is being in my 50's, not my 20's, perhaps. And my non-churching husband provides cover, so perhaps I'm not so scary.

One very small experience of evangelism to share here: because folks know, periodically someone will ask me to pray for him or her. (which always sets me back, because I have HUGE trouble with prayer, especially intercessory) It's always someone not involved with a spiritual community, someone with a big awful something to confront, and a huge hunger. Usually someone who would say "I don't really believe in God, but..."

I used to just say 'ok, I will' and follow through as best I could. Now, I've started asking whether or how they are praying themselves, so I can join them. Mostly that just gives us a little more chance to talk about whatever it is they are facing, and perhaps what the 'real issue' is that they didn't mention.

Again, mostly they say "Oh, I don't pray" or don't believe in God, or something completely incongruous in someone asking for prayer from someone they know slightly. Sometimes the conversation does wander into faith, but mostly not.

I very seldom ask whether they want me to pray with them (together, right there on the spot). Partly that's my fear showing up, partly it's because what they seem to be looking for is someone 'to be praying', ongoing. To know that someone is walking with them when they feel alone in the middle of the night. To trust that someone else is finding the words when they can't. I don't know, really.

With a 'church person', I'm learning to be more comfortable asking if praying together feels like a good thing to do. But, like your barstool conversations, the fellow-traveller praying seems to open doors in just the way you describe. Periodically one wanders into church (somewhere) and puts down roots.

Joy on the journey!
Leesy

Posted by leesytag | June 1, 2009 3:20 PM

Thank you for this wonderful piece, Emily!

I'm always struck by how, in the Gospels, Jesus often grabs an outsider and shows him or her to the insiders saying "Here, THIS is what I'm talking about." I'm convinced we can receive crucial elements of the good news from those who don't think of themselves as believers (a la Matthew 26).

Thank you for this!

Jake

Posted by Jacob Slichter | June 1, 2009 3:50 PM

Dear Andrew,
Often for the non-churchgoer, or those who have been badly burned by churches and/or Christians, just knowing God can love a cussin', drinkin', mouthy person is Good News, indeed.

Mary Sue

{editor's note: thanks, mary sue. we need your full name next time.)

Posted by (The Original) Mary Sue | June 1, 2009 5:28 PM

Great article, Emily! I´m reminded of the old name for what you are doing: evangelization, which is not the same as evangelism. It means telling good news, not arm twisting or "sharig your faith in Jesus". And the beginning of telling good news is of course, "I´m a Christian but not creepy."

Posted by Juan Oliver | June 1, 2009 7:17 PM

"My experience has been that it’s all about reaching out to people who are looking for something that they can’t find."

I was really struck by this statement while reading your piece. How true! Being in my late twenties, I run into people nearly every day who wade through loneliness and know that they're looking for something that they just haven't found.

As a pastor working with young adults, a whole lot of what young people are looking for is found in community. They know they're looking for something to give meaning and shape to who and what they are as people. Being welcomed in friendship by people in a variety of settings oftentimes leads to an introduction or reintroduction to some kind of churchiness. Friendship, church and the body of Christ, being immersed in the people and words and life of Christianity, this provides space for God to move in individuals and in the whole assembly. God is ready and able to move and wants people to live abundant lives, not lives of want. It does us good to think and pray hard about how and when we invite and do not invite.

Thanks for your words.

Posted by Elizabeth Hiller | June 1, 2009 7:56 PM

A really good one, Emily.

I like the question:

"We know what you are not. So what are you?"

But also feel personally as informed by what I am not as a Christian, as by what I am. It's the dilemma of this generation of mainline Christians.

Kurt Nelson

Posted by Kurt | June 2, 2009 1:42 PM

Emily,
This piece reminded me how isolated I have become since I work in the church, for the church, and all my friends are church people. I was struck by how thoughtful you have been in being able to be honest when you meet new people and they ask what you do.

My experience has been similar when I have told people I'm a church organist. It's a real conversation killer! I can't get away with just saying I'm a musician because they always want to know what kind.

I've nearly given up thinking about how I could be participating in evangelization even though I am eager to share the Good News. I know I do it through my music each and every Sunday in a very public church that touches many people. But I'm still eager to have the kind of personal contact you describe. Thank you. Your article gives me hope.

Marilyn Haskel

Posted by Marilyn Haskel | June 6, 2009 12:27 PM

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