In a relativistic culture hostile toward notions of unchanging, ultimate truth, the gospel can be an offense, no matter how positive my presentation. Sometimes that can’t be avoided. But sometimes it can.
—Ed Dobson
The audience at our Saturday night outreach service is one-third unchurched individuals, one-third church dropouts, and one-third church adherents, so the majority come from a secular viewpoint. At the end of the service, I respond to their written questions; I have no idea beforehand what they will be. Questions range from predestination to masturbation, from abortion to suicide, and my answers aren’t always what people want to hear.
One evening someone wrote, “I’m gay, and I’ve always been gay. Is that okay?”
“What you’re really asking,” I responded, “is ‘What does the Bible say about human sexuality?’ The Bible teaches that sexuality is a gift from God to be experienced within the commitment of heterosexual marriage. My understanding of the Bible is that all expressions of our sexuality outside of those boundaries are not within God’s creative intent.
“Are you asking me if it’s okay to have homosexual feelings? Yes, it is. But Scripture does not permit you to follow through with those feelings as a legitimate expression of sexuality. If you try to ignore that fact, there are consequences, one of which is displeasing God.”
Answers like that can irritate people who don’t accept an absolute standard of truth. One man said to me, “I really like Saturday night, but when you answer those questions, I wish you would quit referring to the Bible and tell me what you really think.”
I congratulated the man on being so perceptive. The point of our seeker-sensitive service is not to tell people what I think but to help connect them with biblical truth. In a culture committed to relativism, hostile toward notions of unchanging, ultimate truth, the gospel can be an offense, no matter how positive my presentation. Sometimes that can’t be avoided.
But sometimes it can. I’ve found that I can gain a hearing for the truth of the gospel, even in a relativistic culture. As I’ve conducted seeker-sensitive services and befriended non-Christians, I’ve gathered several principles for reaching skeptics with the truth.
Explain why
The spirit of individualism, rather than community, dominates our culture, giving relativism a strong appeal. “You believe what you want, and I’ll believe what I want” is the spirit of the times.
If a couple on Donahue says, “We’ve been married sixty years, and we’re still happy,” the audience applauds. But if they say, “We believe everyone should remain married for a lifetime,” they’ll get booed off the set.
Pervasive individualism has a positive side. People want what enhances their lifestyles, so I can reach them if I demonstrate that the values I teach are truths beneficial to anyone. I must show the modern skeptic the practical wisdom of biblical principles, particularly those principles that appear rigid or intolerant.
Appeal to curiosity about the Bible
While many secular people reject the notion of absolute values, they are curious to know what the Bible says. And if they have come to church, I assume they have at least some interest in biblical teachings or they wouldn’t be there in the first place.
When answering the questions of seekers and skeptics, I nearly always preface my remarks with, “If you’re asking me what the Bible says, here is the answer.” If I dodge and weave around the Bible, my audience won’t respect me. Sometimes I must frankly say, “I may not like the Bible’s answer, you may not like it, but this is what it says.”
One Saturday evening a questioner wrote, “I’m a Christian. My brother was not a believer when he committed suicide. I still believe he’ll be in heaven. What do you think?”
“What you’re asking is whether the Bible gives several options on how to get to heaven,” I responded. “I have to be honest with you. Scripture says Christ is the only way to heaven, and there are no other options. You are probably thinking, So what does that mean for my brother? Since you are a Christian, you undoubtedly had some influence on him; perhaps before he made this horrible choice he did turn and commit his life to Christ.”
I would have loved to assure him that his brother was waiting for him in heaven, but I couldn’t. I concluded, “If you’re asking whether people can go to heaven without accepting Christ, no, they cannot. I’d like to tell you it doesn’t matter, but if I did, I would be dishonest about the Bible.” People respect that level of integrity.
Sometimes people are surprised by what the Scriptures say. People often ask me, “Will I go to heaven if I’m gay?”
“Whether you’re gay or not has nothing to do with whether you will go to heaven,” I say. “The relevant issue is the nature of your relationship with Jesus Christ. Have you placed your faith in him as your Savior? That’s the sole criteria by which God will judge every human being.”
I try to satisfy natural curiosity about the Bible in two ways. I preach verse by verse on Sunday mornings, and on Saturday nights I use the Bible to answer topical questions. By going through a book one verse at a time, I’m eventually going to bump into the issue that concerns an individual. The questions on Saturday night force me to deal with listeners’ urgent concerns.
Know your essentials
We gain a hearing with a secular audience when we don’t confuse essentials with nonessentials.
One summer night, we held our Saturday service downtown, outdoors. We had just started when a ruckus broke out at the back of the crowd. It turned out to be a group of angry Christians staging a protest; they hoisted signs proclaiming that Christian rock music was of the devil. They became so disruptive that police patrolling the event arrested them.
Meanwhile eighty punk rockers, attracted by the music in our service, were sitting on a wall nearby, listening to my message.
No doubt the protesters were sincere in their beliefs about rock music, but they failed to see their preferences about music were not on the same level of truth as biblical absolutes. (No one has yet shown me where Scripture explicitly condemns rock music.) I believe that will prevent them from effectively reaching unbelievers.
This not only affects how we go about evangelizing but what and how we preach and teach. When preaching or answering questions on Saturday night, I periodically make a distinction: What someone believes about Christ and the nature of salvation is far more important than what he or she believes, let’s say, about women’s ordination. I lose respect with outsiders if I treat both topics with the same level of authority.
Actually, I try to distinguish between three types of truth: absolutes are truths essential to the faith, truths that never change; convictions are beliefs about which orthodox Christians may differ; preferences are traditions or customs, like musical tastes, that may be compatible with the Bible but aren’t biblically based, and they may change with the culture and over time.
Naturally, sometimes people will differ about which category a subject belongs to, but most issues seem to fall into one or another.
Don’t skip the tough topics
I was flying back from California one day, sitting in an aisle seat across from some businessmen. One of them happened to notice I was reading my Greek New Testament and asked, “What language is that?”
“Greek,” I replied.
“What kind of Greek?”
“New Testament Greek.”
“That’s amazing,” he said. “I studied Greek when I attended a religious college in the Midwest. Why are you studying it?”
“I’m preparing for my sermon on Sunday.”
“Really? What are you speaking on?”
I paused at that point. I looked at his buddies sitting next to him who were half-listening to our conversation. Did I really want to break the news to him in front of all his friends? But I knew I had to be honest with him.
“Well, Sunday morning my subject is hell,” I said.
That was the end of the conversation for the rest of the flight.
When you’re trying to gain a hearing from a secular audience, it’s tempting to water down demanding Scriptures or avoid them altogether. We’re afraid people will tune out the sermon.
But I’ve discovered that’s a mistake. Just when I think I know what the culture wants to hear and what it doesn’t, I’m surprised all over again. Our most popular Saturday night series was, “What Does It Mean to Be a Christian?” By any measure—attendance, audience response, or follow-up—it was the most successful four evenings in our Saturday history. Until then, I had dealt with subjects such as depression, bitterness, and forgiving your parents. The last thing I expected was an overwhelming response to such a simple, straightforward topic.
I learned a valuable lesson: I don’t need to trade away forthright, biblical messages for something faddish or trendy. People have a basic spiritual hunger that only faithful biblical preaching can satisfy.
I’ve found that I can preach even about the most sticky subject, as long as I balance it with good news. We did a two-part Saturday night series, one on heaven and the other on hell.
We introduced the subject of the afterlife by relating near-death experiences from popular literature. I wasn’t prepared to say these experiences were real, but I pointed out they often paralleled the biblical teachings on death and the afterlife. The evening on heaven was well received.
But the next week, I said, “What I didn’t tell you last week was there are other near-death experiences described in the literature that are not so pleasant. In fact, it’s incredible how much these experiences parallel what the Scriptures say about hell.”
I could tell people were uncomfortable in that second session, but they listened intently.
Copyright © 1996 by Christianity Today/Leadership
