A Holy Life Is the Seed of Evangelism

The Lord has used many special people over the years to draw me to himself. At the time, I didn’t know why they were different from everyone else around me, but I yearned for what they had. As I’ve matured in my faith I’ve grown to realize what they had was holiness—a love and a reverence for their Savior that influenced how they lived. God used the powerful tool of these holy lives to win me to himself almost nineteen years ago. C.H. Spurgeon once said, “A holy life is in itself a wonderful power; . . . it is in fact the best sermon a man can ever deliver.”

As a staunch unbeliever, I was deeply affected by the holiness of Christians and the kindness they expressed toward me. My mother-in-law used to take my young son to church, and he was given a role in the Christmas play. I refused to venture with them each week, but I willingly attended the play. My son was sweet and funny, and we couldn’t understand one word he said, but none of that mattered. What mattered was a short message, a plea really, by the pastor who clearly had a deep devotion for the Savior he spoke of. I don’t remember what he said, but I do remember being captivated by his love and humility. I felt a longing for something I couldn’t explain as a quietness settled over my weary soul. The blanket of peace soon lifted as I walked out of the church and back into the familiar territory of life’s anxious routine.

Two years later, the same pastor found my husband and I filling up at the gas station preparing to take our son to the children's hospital. He knew about the excruciating pain in our son's leg and the multitude of tests he had been through in the past few weeks. He knew we were terrified. He knew we were without hope and without Christ. A holy glow radiated from him as he approached us and asked to pray for us. Right there—in the parking lot of the gas station, in the heart of our everyone-knows-everyone small town.

I am ashamed to admit it now, but I was mortified. Even so, we politely conceded. He placed his hands on our shoulders, bowed his head and prayed. Again, I don’t remember what he said. What I know is that moment has frozen itself like a permanent photograph etched in the forefront of my mind. His humility, kindness, and thoughtfulness toward us non-church going heathens still moves me to tears. His reverence toward God was deeply soul-stirring and it left me curious.

During this difficult time many believers approached me in the grocery store, bank, or wherever they saw me. They seemed to radiate a similar heavenly glow. They asked about our son and told me they were praying for us. I found out later we were on a few church prayer lists. Us? What on earth? I was touched and puzzled by the prayers of these Christians who interceded on our behalf. My heart was softening through the godly compassion of faithful believers.

In the doctor’s office at the children’s hospital, after a series of scans and tests, the doctor told us there was a growth inside the marrow of our son’s femur. This had been the cause of his pain—which had recently subsided. My heart sank, tears welled. I felt as though I had been gathered up by a raging tornado swirling me around uncontrollably. The doctor continued, “But it has formed a hardened shell around itself which means it has stopped growing.” 

The tornado quieted. The floor beneath my feet stabilized. Astounded, the image of the pastor’s gas station prayer began flashing upon the screen of my mind. To avoid disturbing the cyst with a biopsy the doctor suggested that he simply monitor our son’s leg with an x-ray every couple of months. Over the next six months, each x-ray revealed a shrinking cyst until it eventually disappeared. I didn’t know how to give glory to God, but deep down I knew. 

Consistent Saints

I had an acquaintance who attended church regularly. There was something gentle, humble, and otherworldly about her. When I was with her, though she said nothing to me about my sin, I had strange pangs of guilt that cut my heart like swords whenever my foul mouth cursed and swore. This feeling always puzzled me. It caused me to carefully guard my words around her out of respect for her character. Her holiness convicted me.  

There was also a co-worker who walked in godliness (unlike the rest of us). She was always joyous, never frazzled by anything. She seemed steady as a rock. Always a breath of fresh air to me as I struggled to avoid sinking deep in fear. She exuded a genuineness of character, rooted in her reverence for God and happiness of soul, that I could not fully comprehend. Then one day she began talking to me about her church and invited me to go with her. Immediately, I sensed a longing rise in my heart. It was the same longing I had felt so long ago during the Christmas play sermon—longing for the unknown yet familiar. It felt like a home I hadn’t yet seen. 

When I finally accepted her invitation, all those years of interacting with Christians living holy lives in front of me, praying for and with me, finally bore its fruit. The third Sunday I attended church, the Lord saved me. I had seen and now perceived, I had listened and now heard. I finally understood and turned. Praise God for his unfathomable mercy!

I look back on all these threads in my life and so clearly see the truth, and significance, of Peter’s words, “Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation” (1 Pet. 2:11–12). It was the honorable conduct and good deeds of faithful believers that broke up the fallow ground of my dead, dry heart so that the seeds of gospel truth could be planted and begin to grow. Though it took years, the Lord used each one of these godly people to prepare my heart so that when I heard the gospel preached at just the right time, I was ready to believe it. 

The Call to Faithfulness

All who are in Christ, are charged to live honorably—holy and worthy of our calling before a watching world. Why? Many reasons, but certainly so our friends and family will believe us when we share the good news with them. Evangelism isn’t just smiling and being kind to others. Evangelism speaks and proclaims. Evangelism can be frightening, especially if you’re timid like me, though I’m learning that sharing the gospel doesn’t have to be complicated or scary. Our call is to make disciples and teach them all Jesus commanded, and to do that we must proclaim the gospel to others.

There is a Bible that sits on a bookshelf of a very dear friend of mine. We’ve had many hard but courageous discussions about the gospel over the years. After one of those times, this loved one asked me how she could know more about God. “By reading this,” I said as I set my Bible on a nearby shelf, “I’ll leave it with you.” A few years and many gospel conversations later, that Bible still sits where I left it. Has it been read? Only God knows for sure. In the meantime, I prayerfully wait. I am called to share, but it is God who must do the saving. The Lord reminds and encourages us with these words, “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Cor. 15:58). We may not see fruit from our evangelism for years, if ever, but we are called to be faithful, speak boldly, and be ready in season and out of season to share the hope that is within us. 

Christian, let us be holy, for without holiness, no one will see the Lord. Then let us remember our command to go and make disciples, and our Lord’s accompanying promise that he is with us. Let us persevere in faithfulness even without visible fruit. Whether we’re in our homes, out on the street, at a gas station, grocery store or kitchen table, in a classroom or living room, let the foundation of our evangelism be a holy life that shines for all to see.