Evangelism

Some disregard man’s need to be rescued as a mere trifle. David Litt, a former Obama speechwriter, describes his efforts to learn surfing. While his daredevil brother-in-law joked, “It’s only drowning” Litt describes in his book, “It’s Only Drowning” one of his worst wipeouts.

“For a long time I was weightless. In free fall. Bracing myself to hit the water with a full-body slap. But the impact never came. The crashing lip, as powerful as a jackhammer, blasted through the surface, and I flew down the resulting sinkhole until my right hip bounced against the sand. Then the sea washed over me like a coffin lid and the hold-down buried me alive.

At first I held it together. Don’t worry. Wait it out. But I’d developed a mental hourglass…and I could feel it running dry. I’d never been underwater this long before. I’d never pinwheeled so violently. I raised an arm, expecting to punch through the ocean’s surface, but all I felt was more ocean. Water streamed up my nose and down my throat. How deep am I? How long have I gone without breathing? Something’s wrong. Panic setting in, I thrashed frantically upward, water surging through the corners of my mouth each time I fought to suppress a breath. When, finally, the wave lost interest, I burst into the sunlight and took shallow, rapid breaths. My neck was sore with whiplash, my tonsils swollen from salt.”

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Drowning is no joke. Separation from God is no joke. Spurgeon’s quote could be paired with this illustration.

“A man who is drowning does not need to be told how to swim; he needs to be pulled out of the water. And so the sinner, sinking under the weight of his sin, does not want directions, but deliverance. He is not a free agent who can save himself if he will; he is a captive, bound hand and foot, unless the strong arm of grace shall rescue him.”

C. H. Spurgeon, The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, vol. 11 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1865).

Randy Loubier and his family were reeling from a series of tragedies: his son’s girlfriend, Kira, had just died in a car crash, and less than three weeks earlier, another son’s girlfriend, Ashley, had committed suicide. On top of this, Randy’s career in finance had collapsed after he was fired for being a whistleblower, and his family was at risk of losing their home.

At Ashley’s funeral, a family friend named Debbie was the only light in their darkness, offering support and kindness. Later, at Kira’s wake, Randy was surprised when Kira’s mother, despite her own grief, expressed concern for Randy’s son: “I am so sorry Zach lost Ashley… When all this is over, would it be okay if I spend a little time with Zach?” Randy was stunned: “She just lost her daughter, her best friend, and she wants to care for my son? Who does that?”

Debbie then introduced Randy to her pastor, who invited both sons to a new grief group. Moved by the compassion of these Christians, Randy’s wife announced, “I’m going to start going to church.” Soon after, Randy’s father-in-law sent him a Bible. Though previously skeptical of Christianity, Randy decided to read it: “God, if you are in this book, I am going to be super upset, because I will have been wrong for 50 years. But I guess…I want to know.”

As he read, Randy was convicted about his own failings and gradually fell in love with Scripture. Weekly meetings with the pastor deepened his faith. When he reached the Gospels, he realized, “Jesus had been speaking to me all along.” Randy reflects, “Jesus, the Word, is everything to me. He saved me… But make no mistake, the church first sparked my curiosity. If God’s people hadn’t made me wonder about their peculiar love, I never would have cracked open God’s Word, and I never would have fallen in love myself.”

For much of the last half-century, Sweden was held up as the clearest picture of a secular future. Church attendance hovered around five percent. Belief in God collapsed. As Swedish church historian Joel Halldorf describes it, religion wasn’t angrily rejected—it was gently dismissed. But in recent years, Sweden has seen unexpected signs of change: open conversations about faith at intellectual dinner tables, and—most surprising of all—young people showing up in churches.

Across the Western world, similar signals are appearing. In Britain, journalists speak of a “quiet revival.” In France, the Catholic Church reports a stunning surge: more than 7,400 teenagers baptized at Easter in 2024. In the United States, Pew Research notes that the long decline of religious affiliation has flattened, especially among younger adults.

Globally, Gen Z is now more religious than their boomer parents—a reversal once thought nearly impossible. Musician Nick Cave observed that a decade ago, talking about God at a dinner table would get you laughed out of the room. Now, he says, people listen. There is “a kind of need” in the air.

Halldorf argues that there’s an erosion of faith in secular progress itself. When reason, technology, and prosperity stopped delivering hope, people didn’t stop longing. They started searching again. And in the Western world that search is becoming visible.

Hector Vega’s journey to faith began in the most unlikely place: Rikers Island Prison. One night, correction officers rushed in. An inmate named Jose Vega had committed suicide. Due to a mix-up, prison staff mistakenly identified Hector as the deceased and notified his family. For several days, while the prison was on lockdown, Hector’s family believed he was dead.

Reflecting on this, Hector said, “There’s something powerfully symbolic in how I was ‘dead’ but not yet buried. Looking back on this moment in my life, I believe God was beginning to show me that although I was physically alive, I was spiritually lifeless.”

Raised in Hell’s Kitchen, New York, Hector struggled with feelings of inadequacy. To fit in, he began drinking at 11, then moved to marijuana, cocaine, and heroin. Multiple prison sentences followed. A turning point came through his girlfriend Michelle, who, frustrated by his addiction and aware he wasn’t ready for fatherhood, turned to God and prayed for his deliverance. She encouraged Hector to attend a Christian recovery program.

Hector recalls, “I also started feeling deep remorse and shame over the pain I had caused people in my family, especially my mom and dad. So, I started attending prison chapel services. From there I started reading the Word of God, and gradually it got a tight hold on my heart.” He clung to passages like Psalms 27 and 91, and Galatians 5:1–13, which speaks of freedom in Christ.

With the support of mentors, Hector surrendered his life to Christ. Since then, he has served as executive director of a homeless shelter and addiction-recovery program, and since 2009, as pastor of East Harlem Fellowship. Married to Michelle for 30 years, they have raised four children. Hector now travels globally, sharing, “When the world had labeled me an addict and a career criminal, his love and mercy overwhelmed me… I was made in his image and worthy of being presented as a trophy of his grace.”

Nabeel Qureshi was born in California to Pakistani immigrant parents, devout members of the peaceful Ahmadi sect of Islam. His father whispered “Allahu Akbar” into his ear at birth, following a family tradition dating back to Muhammad. Nabeel’s family was loving and tightly knit, entirely centered on Islam. His mother taught him Arabic before English, and by age five, he had read the entire Qur’an in Arabic and memorized many chapters.

His family legacy included generations of Muslim missionaries, and by middle school, Nabeel was adept at challenging Christian theology. Islam gave him “purpose, values, and direction for worship.”

In 2001, while at Old Dominion University, Nabeel met David Wood, a Christian student. Nabeel was surprised that someone so intelligent would read the Bible. Their debates grew into a deep friendship and years-long dialogue. David encouraged Nabeel to examine both Islam and Christianity objectively. “I had been happy with my faith and with my Ahmadi community and did not want to leave it, but I ultimately converted to Christianity after years of dialogue with Wood,” Nabeel recalled. He described his conversion as “the most painful thing [he] ever did” because it cost him most of his friendships and relationships with fellow Muslims.

He wrote, “For the first time, the [Qur’an] seemed utterly irrelevant to my suffering. It felt like a dead book.” In contrast, the words of Jesus in the New Testament “leapt off the page and jump-started my heart.” He realized, “For Muslims, following the gospel is more than a call to prayer. It is a call to die. I knelt at the foot of my bed and gave up my life.”

His conversion deeply wounded his family. He said, “To this day my family is broken by the decision I made, and it is excruciating every time I see the cost I had to pay.” But Nabeel said, “Jesus is the God of redemption. He redeemed my suffering by making me rely upon him for my every moment… To follow him is worth giving up everything.”

“Abu Jaz,” is a key leader in a movement that describes itself as the “People of the Gospel.” This group represents several thousand Muslims in eastern Africa who have converted to faith in Christ. Abu Jaz describes his conversion to Christ:

One night the only food my wife and I had was a small portion of macaroni. My wife prepared it very nicely. Then one of her friends knocked on the door. I told myself, ‘The macaroni is not sufficient for even the two of us, so how will it be enough for three of us? But because we have no other custom, we opened the door, and she came in to eat with us.’

While we were eating, the macaroni started to multiply; it became full in the bowl. I suspected that something was wrong with my eyes, so I started rubbing them. I thought maybe my wife hid some macaroni under the small table, so I checked, but there was nothing. My wife and I looked at each other, but because the guest was there, we said nothing.

Afterward I lay down on the bed, and as I slept, Isa (Jesus) came to me and asked me, ‘Do you know who multiplied the macaroni?’ I said, ‘I don’t know.’ He said, ‘I am Isa al Masih (Jesus is Messiah). If you follow me, not only the macaroni but your life will be multiplied.’

I didn’t understand what he meant when he said that my life would be multiplied. Now I understand what that means. But at that time, I accepted him simply as the ‘lord of macaroni’ much like the crowds in the Gospels who accepted him as ‘lord of bread.’

Yes, I just accepted him as one who satisfied my needs. That day I understood that Isa came to my home. When I think back now, the kingdom of God came to my home. Jesus said, ‘[I]f I cast out demons . . . the kingdom . . .has come upon you’ (Luke 11:20, NASB). Any miracle that takes place by Isa al Masih speaks of the kingdom of God.

American Protestants are keeping their children in the faith at a higher rate than Catholics or the una­ffiliated. The biggest influence: mothers.

Children Of Two Protestant Parents:

80% are still Protestant

13% are now unaffiliated

2% are now Catholic

Children Of Two Catholic Parents:

62% are still Catholic

19% are now unaffiliated

16% are now Protestant

Children Of Two Unaffiliated Parents:

63% are still unaffiliated

29% are now Protestant

7% are now Catholic

Children Of A Protestant Mother And Catholic Father:

49% are now Protestant

25% are now unaffiliated

14% are now Catholic

Children Of A Protestant Mother And Unaffiliated Father:

61% are now Protestant

29% are now unaffiliated

2% are now Catholic

As fire threatened people in Jasper National Park, Colleen Knull sprang into action. “I like to be able to help people,” said the 18-year-old. “I like the fact that what I do in my work does good.”

Knull is a volunteer firefighter in North Okanagan in Alberta, Canada. She was working a summer job as part of the kitchen staff at a Jasper lodge when one night an evacuation order was issued for the area. “The smoke was coming up from the mountainside,” said Knull. “It was big.”

Knull quickly spread the word to guests of the lodge and tracked down any other people camping out in the area. In total, she rallied 16 people together for a four-hour hike in treacherous terrain to safety.

Rebecca Tocher, a hiker who was in Knull’s group said, “There was more intense smoke, my eyes were burning, there was ash falling constantly. She was an amazing leader and was just making sure that everyone was working together.”

Knull used her knowledge of the area and tracking skills to navigate in the dark. Knull said:

I had previously ridden a horse up to that lodge on that same trail and throughout the way me and my employer, we had cut logs on the way up," said Knull. "There were 67 logs, so there would be 67 cut logs on the way down…So, I used my tracking skills – following horse tracks, and horse manure.”

“She was just on it and she led it, the whole way,” said David Richmond, another hiker in the group.

“I do it because at the end of the day, I’d want somebody there to help,” said Knull.

During the hike down, the group was able to communicate with search and rescue crews to help with the evacuation. Knull eventually drove all 16 people in her pickup truck out of the evacuation zone. No one was seriously injured.

Knull said the experience reinforced her motivation to become a full-time, professional firefighter.

Possible Preaching Angles:

1) Rescue; Salvation; Savior, Christ only - Christ, our compassionate Savior, personally leads us through the valley of death, just as He promised, 'Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you are with me' (Psalm 23:4). His prior experience ensures our safe passage. 2) Evangelism, Witnessing - Christians can show others the way to safety in the Lord since they know the way (John 14:6).

Legendary West Indian fast bowler Sir Wesley Hall was a strongly-built, larger than life cricketer who played international cricket between 1958 to 1969. His long run-up, fearsome pace bowling, outstanding personality, and exploits on the field, made him one of the most-loved sportsmen to emerge from the Caribbean. In 48 international test matches, Hall took 192 wickets at an average 26.38 runs per wicket.

Wesley Hall became an unforgettable part of cricket folklore having bowled the final nail-biting over in the first ever tied test match in the history of cricket between Australia and the West Indies in 1960. The last Australian wicket fell in the last over of the match with them needing one run to win. Thus, the scores of both teams finished the same (tied). It was a historic moment in the game of cricket

After retiring from the game he loved, Hall served in politics and as an Administrator for West Indies Cricket. He was knighted in 2012.

Wesley Hall's life was dramatically transformed, however, after attending a Christian meeting in 1988 on a trip to Florida. He gave his heart to the Lord that day and eventually answered the call to serve God. After attending Bible college, Hall was later ordained in the Pentecostal Church. He has been a much-loved preacher thereafter at Christian gatherings and at funerals-specifically those of West Indian cricketers.

Possible Preaching Angle:

At his trial before King Agrippa, the Apostle Paul, remembering the call of Jesus on the road to Damascus, said, “So then, King Agrippa, I was not disobedient to the vision from heaven” (Acts 26:19). Similarly, when God's call came to the prophet Isaiah, he responded, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isa. 6:8). God places His call on different people in different places. Sir Wesley Hall answered the call of God to serve Him. What about us?

In February 2020, BBC journalist Vicky Baker jumped on the Eurostar to Paris, motivated by a sudden urge to have dinner with a friend. American Jim Haynes had entered his late 80s and his health was declining, yet she knew he would welcome a visit. Jim always welcomed visitors to his home in Paris.

She was far from the only guest wandering into the warm glow of his artist's workroom on a wet winter's night. Inside, people were squeezing, shoulder to shoulder, through the narrow kitchen. Strangers struck up conversations, bunched together in groups, and balancing their dinners on paper plates.

Jim had operated open-house policy at his home every Sunday evening for more than 40 years. Absolutely anyone was welcome to come for an informal dinner, all you had to do was phone or email and he would add your name to the list. No questions asked. Just put a donation in an envelope when you arrive.

There would be a buzz in the air, as people of various nationalities - locals, immigrants, travelers - milled around the small, open-plan space. A pot of hearty food bubbled on the stove and servings would be dished out onto a trestle table, so you could help yourself and continue to mingle. It was for good reason that Jim was nicknamed the "godfather of social networking." He led the way in connecting strangers, long before we outsourced it all to Silicon Valley.

At the dinners' peak, Jim would welcome up to 120 guests, filling his home, and spilling out into the cobbled back garden. An estimated 150,000 people have come over the years.

"The door was always open," says Amanda Morrow, an Australian journalist. "It was a revolving door of guests - some who wanted to stay over, and others who just wanted to say hello. Jim never said no to anyone."

Amid the outpouring of online tributes since his death in his sleep on 6 January 2021, these words from his son Jesper stand out:

The only thing that really got Jim down was people leaving. He struggled with that. He didn't like being on his own... His goal from early on was to introduce the whole world to each other. He almost succeeded.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Fellowship; Home; Outreach – Imagine the results if church members would invite others to share in an informal meal at their home. Neighbors, friends, church members, visitors to church all welcomed to mingle and fellowship in the warm, cozy atmosphere of a home.

Sixteen-year-old Bronwynn Cruden’s family runs an escape room so she’s well-versed in the art of finding an exit. But last Halloween, her skills were critically important and might have helped save lives.

Cruden was doing homework at the front counter of Twisted Escape Rooms in the Vancouver Mall when she heard gunshots ringing out. Cruden said, “I heard ‘boom, boom.’ I didn’t process the first few shots because it sounded so loud and abrupt. Then it was like one after another after another.” Looking up, Cruden saw panicked families running through the mall.

Her first thought was to help those outside her business, so she unlocked the doors and ushered families inside, including a man holding a crying baby. She guided them to a back door for safety. Then, remembering the group of six people participating in an escape room game, she went back to alert them. “I didn’t know if they heard the shots or thought it was something else,” she explained.

Meanwhile, Cruden’s stepmother Wendy, who was out of town, was alerted to the situation through a motion detection notification on her phone. “When I saw that, I was just shaking,” said Wendy, who immediately called her daughter. “And of course, I’m just trying to keep her calm, too." Wendy instructed Cruden to lock herself in the back bathroom with the family’s two dogs and wait for help to arrive.

Cruden stayed in the bathroom, listening to sirens and police in the hallway, until a friend of her father arrived. She then learned that one person had died and two others had been injured in the shooting.

Recalling the chaotic scene, Cruden said, "I watched hundreds of parents running and picking up kids. It was the most people I’ve ever seen in that mall, and more kids than adults or teenagers. I’m mostly sad for the people, for the kids."

Wendy, reflecting on her stepdaughter's actions that night, said, "She did the right thing. She was very brave, and I felt like I was watching a hero when I saw the video.”

Leader, author, and evangelist Leighton Ford wrote the following as he remembered his wife, Jean Graham Ford, and her brother, Billy.

“Don’t forget the evangelists.” That’s what my Jeanie would say every time we headed off to help young leaders to spread the gospel. “Don’t forget the evangelists.”

She and her brother Billy were two of a kind. Both raised on a red clay dairy farm in North Carolina with a strict mother, who taught them the Bible and a kind father who guided them with his prayers. They both became Christ sharers who felt called to let others know this God who loved and could save them.

He traveled across the world preaching to millions and millions. She stayed close to home for the most part living that good news with her three children and her husband. He raised his powerful and strong voice like a thunder. She spoke like a quiet stream with a voice made quiet by her childhood polio.

He opened his arms wide with an invitation to come to the cross. She held her arms open closely hugging others with a touch that took away tears and fears. He preached about sin and judgment and forgiveness. She showed grace in her face. He used stadiums as his pulpit. She taught in a spacious room in a friend’s home.

Now that they are both with the Lord they loved, I can see them standing side-by-side, and imagine him saying: “You are two of the very best evangelists I’ve ever had.” So – may we never forget the evangelists!

Jennifer Nizza grew up on grew up on Long Island, New York, as part of an Italian and culturally Catholic family. For her, Christmas was mainly about Santa Claus, antipasto, and pretty lights on houses. However, her understanding of spirituality was limited to the supernatural realm, shaped by conversations about ghosts and early experiences with tarot cards.

At age 13, the door to demons was thrown wide open. a tarot card reading ignited a fascination with the occult. Jennifer delved deeper into this world, experiencing fear and discomfort as she felt the presence of demonic forces. Seeking answers, she consulted a psychic medium who claimed Jennifer was a medium herself, gifted with the ability to connect with the departed.

She writes, “But the further I went down that road, the more it seemed demons were surrounding me and I experienced so many moments of fear. I felt them touching me, and I could see them manifesting as shadowy figures and animals.

Jennifer loved the thought of helping clients attain the desires of their heart and communicate with their loved ones. But she lived in constant fear of bad spirits and what they would do to her. She said:

In my mid-30s, at a moment of especially intense fear, I suddenly cried out the name of Jesus Christ. Not my spirit guide or a deceased person or an angel—Jesus! Almost immediately I felt a peace that surpasses all understanding (Phil. 4:7). This began my journey to full Christian faith. And I had no idea what the gospel was. But I knew I didn’t want to be a psychic anymore.

Ten months later, a chance encounter with a friend who was attending a Bible-based church sparked Jennifer's curiosity. Despite initial hesitation, a few weeks later she felt a strong desire to visit the church. She shares:

I was singing along with the worship music when the lyrics “Jesus saved me” flashed on the screen, instantly transporting me back to the moment I had cried out to Jesus Christ. I started crying with joy, because I knew in my heart that he saved me.

Filled with joy and newfound conviction, I sought to understand the Bible's teachings on my profession. I didn’t have a Bible on hand, so I asked Google, “What does the Bible say about psychic mediums?” And I was shocked to find verses like Deuteronomy 18:9–13, which condemn anyone who “practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or . . . consults the dead.” Since Jesus had saved me, I would have to pick up my cross and follow him, even at the cost of quitting my job.

In the ten years since, Jesus has changed my heart and my life as only he can. I am no longer caught in the hamster wheel of endlessly seeking peace, joy, and fulfillment without finding them. Today, I continue to share the gospel whenever I can, in part by devoting myself to exposing the demonic darkness I served for many years and warning others against following the same path.

Editor’s Note: Today Jennifer Nizza is a speaker and Christian content creator. She is the author of From Psychic to Saved .

Rosaria Champagne Butterfield was a leftist lesbian professor, who despised Christians. Then somehow, she became one. She shares her testimony in an issue of CT magazine.

Professor Rosaria Butterfield hated and pitied Christians. She thought Christians and their god Jesus were stupid and pointless. She used her post as a professor of English and women’s studies to advance the allegiances of a leftist lesbian professor. She and her partner shared many vital interests: AIDS activism, children’s health and literacy, and the Unitarian Universalist church.

She began researching the Religious Right and their politics of hatred against queers like her. To do this, she would need to read the Bible, the book she believed had gotten many people off track. She then began her attack by writing an article in the local newspaper about Promise Keepers.

The article generated many rejoinders … some hate mail, others were fan mail. But one letter I received defied this filing system. It was from the pastor of the Syracuse Reformed Presbyterian Church. It was a kind and inquiring letter. Pastor Ken Smith encouraged me to explore the kind of questions I admire: How did you arrive at your interpretations? How do you know you are right? Do you believe in God? Ken didn’t argue with my article; rather, he asked me to defend the presuppositions that undergirded it. I didn’t know how to respond to it, so I threw it away.

Later that night, I fished it out of the recycling bin and put it back on my desk. With the letter, Ken initiated two years of bringing the church to a heathen. Oh, I had seen my share of Bible verses on placards at Gay Pride marches and Christians who mocked me on Gay Pride Day. That is not what Ken did. He did not mock. He engaged. So, when his letter invited me to get together for dinner, I accepted. Surely this will be good for my research.

Something else happened. Ken and his wife, Floy, and I became friends. They entered my world. They met my friends. We talked openly about sexuality and politics. They did not act as if such conversations were polluting them. When we ate together, Ken prayed in a way I had never heard before. His prayers were intimate. Vulnerable. He repented of his sin in front of me. He thanked God for all things. Ken’s God was holy and firm, yet full of mercy.

I started reading the Bible. I read the way a glutton devours. I read it many times that first year. At a dinner gathering my transgendered friend J cornered me in the kitchen. She warned, “This Bible reading is changing you, Rosaria.” With tremors, I whispered, “J, what if it is true? What if Jesus is a real and risen Lord? What if we are all in trouble?”

I continued reading the Bible, all the while fighting the idea that it was inspired. Then, one Sunday morning, I … sat in a pew at the Syracuse Reformed Presbyterian Church. Conspicuous with my butch haircut, I reminded myself that I came to meet God, not fit in. The image that came in like waves, of me and everyone I loved suffering in hell, gripped me in its teeth.

Then, one ordinary day, I came to Jesus. Jesus triumphed. And I was a broken mess. Conversion was a train wreck. I did not want to lose everything that I loved. But the voice of God sang a sanguine love song in the rubble of my world. I weakly believed that if Jesus could conquer death, he could make right my world. I rested in private peace, then community, and today in the shelter of a covenant family, where one calls me “wife” and many call me “mother.”

Editor’s Note: Rosaria Champagne Butterfield is the author of The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert (Crown & Covenant). She lives with her family in Durham, North Carolina, where her husband pastors the First Reformed Presbyterian Church of Durham.

When it comes to fulfilling the Great Commission, how can the “1 percent” of Christians who work in professional ministry help the “99 percent” who don’t?

Consider the difference between how frogs and lizards get their food. The frog just sits and waits, and lets the food come to him, while the lizard cannot afford to sit and wait, but must go out into the world.

Pastors are like the frog. They get trained in ministry, join a church staff, and then everyone knows they work full-time to meet spiritual needs. Ministry opportunities come to them.

In contrast, when it comes to ministry and evangelism, lay people are like the lizard. They must learn to hunt by building bridges at work or in neighborhoods, earning a right to be heard, and then winsomely, creatively, prayerfully, courageously proclaiming Christ.

Unfortunately, there are many sad lizards out there who think that to have a ministry, they must act just like frogs. Many ill-equipped laypeople sit under-deployed. Even as hostility toward Christians grows stronger, Christ’s Great Commission mandate has not changed, and a pathway for spreading the gospel remains wide open—as it has since the days of the early church—through personal relationships between believers and nonbelievers who work together.

Church historian Alan Kreider sums up the strategic advantage of the workplace: “What happened was this. Non-Christians and Christians worked together and lived near each other. They became friends.”

This is what makes the workplace so key to the Great Commission. Here believers have daily opportunities to offer living proof—through their actions, attitudes, and words—that the gospel is indeed good news.

Controversial activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali became well known when she published her 2007 memoir Infidel, which was an account of her life as a Muslim woman and her fight against radical Islam. She made headlines worldwide when she converted to atheism, receiving numerous death threats. In November 2023, she announced her conversion to Christianity. Her reasons address in part what is happening in the world today. She writes:

Atheists were wrong when they said rejection of God would usher in a new age of reason and intelligent humanism. But the 'God hole'—the void left by the retreat of the church—has merely been filled by a jumble of irrational, quasi-religious dogma. The result is a world where modern cults prey on the dislocated masses, offering them spurious reasons for being and action. This is mostly by engaging in virtue-signaling theater on behalf of a victimized minority or our supposedly doomed planet. The line often attributed to G.K. Chesterton has turned into a prophecy: 'When men choose not to believe in God, they do not thereafter believe in nothing, they then become capable of believing in anything.'

In this nihilistic vacuum, the challenge before us becomes civilizational. We can’t withstand China, Russia, and Iran if we can’t explain to our populations why it matters that we do. We can’t fight woke ideology if we can’t defend the civilization that it is determined to destroy. And we can’t counter Islamism with purely secular tools. To win the hearts and minds of Muslims here in the West, we have to offer them something more than videos on TikTok.

The lesson I learned from my years with the Muslim Brotherhood was the power of a unifying story, embedded in the foundational texts of Islam, to attract, engage, and mobilize the Muslim masses. Unless we offer something as meaningful, I fear the erosion of our civilization will continue. And fortunately, there is no need to look for some New Age concoction of medication and mindfulness. Christianity has it all.

In a 2019 PBS documentary America Lost, filmmaker Christopher Rufo explores the devastating plight of three of America's forgotten cities: Youngstown, Ohio; Memphis, Tennessee; and Stockton, California. In a YouTube video, he describes a successful men's ministry in Stockton.

Pastor Jereme of the Men's Recovery Home is shown speaking to a man on the street:

We gotta let go of some of those old ways and those old habits, you know what I mean? I know I was there bro. I ran away from home when I was 15 years old. I was living on the streets. I was gang banging. I was getting high, shooting dope. Doing my thing man, running while carrying a gun. You know I was messed up. I was a hurting man. I didn't know any other way until somebody just like this actually handed me a flyer from Victory Outreach.

I said, “God can change your life” and at that moment I was at a point where I was tired. I was tired of the way I was living. I said “Man what do I have to do?” I was ready to make a change. We got a Christian recovery home for men. It's an intense program to help you get your life together.

Pastor Jereme narrates:

Everybody has a story. Could be through drugs. It could be through abuse. It could be through violence. Our families are broken down, our communities are broken down, people's lives are broken down. They're devastated. That's why this ministry is here. We want to let people know that they're not in a hopeless situation. That as long as they're breathing there's hope.

‘The people that come into our church, they come in hurting. They come in empty. They come in broken. They come in in need of a miracle. In need of a healing. A need of somebody loving them. And that's the beginning of the process. If we can affect a person, we can affect the community. We can affect the city. We can affect the world.’

You can watch the clip here (56 min, 36 sec – 60 min, 31 sec).