Giving Your Words (Being a Penny Christian #3)

Most of you have probably heard of Jonathan Edwards, the theologian from the 1700s. But have you heard of John Edwards, the modern-day chef? I hadn’t either, until this week.

He trained as a chef and then served twenty-five years in the British Army’s catering corps. I didn’t even know they had a branch for catering. He retired from the military, went back to school, and earned a PhD in food service — which eventually landed him an appointment here in the United States with a title far too long to read aloud.

But before he came here, he taught at Bournemouth University in the UK, where he ran an experiment. He wanted to know whether the food he created was affected by the environment in which it was eaten. Take the identical dish — does it taste the same everywhere, or does your perception shift based on where you are?

So he made chicken à la king. One dish, one recipe. And he served it in five-star restaurants, three-star restaurants, a nursing home, and a boarding school.

In the five-star restaurants — beautiful ambiance, enormous prices, sterling reputation — the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. Tasty. Moist. Satisfying. People wanted more.

The exact same dish, served in the nursing home and the boarding school, came back described as dry. Tasteless. One person called it disgusting.

That is the power of assumption. Walk into a five-star restaurant and you assume the food will be extraordinary, and it matches your assumption. Walk into a boarding school where the food is legendarily bad, and even a five-star meal tastes like cafeteria food.

We Run on Assumption

You and I operate on assumption constantly, because assumptions are powerful. They’re a bit like drugs — potent, and usable for good or for ill.

You see someone, and the way they’re dressed triggers a whole cascade. A lanky guy in a white tank top, tattoos up both arms, bandana on his head — and you assume gang member. Or drug dealer. Probably unemployed. Probably terrible to his girlfriend. Probably unfaithful.

And you might be entirely wrong. He might be a devoted husband and a caring father, and the most reliable, hardest-working person at his job.

We’ve all made that mistake.

Last week I mentioned transferring to John Brown University, where I met my wife. On that very same day I met a guy who lived on my floor. He had a slightly goofy grin, and he always cocked his head at you when you talked. And I made an instant assumption: this guy probably isn’t the brightest on campus. But I’ve transferred to a Christian college, so I’ll be nice to him.

I was completely wrong.

He was an engineering major. He had a job secured before graduation, and he eventually went on to own the engineering company he’d been hired by. He was no slouch.

And the reason he always cocked his head? He was born deaf in one ear. He was turning his good ear toward you so he wouldn’t miss anything you said.

I wish the world had a million of him. He became one of my closest friends in college and stood in our wedding. And I had him completely wrong within the first thirty seconds.

Yet even after we’ve all had that experience, we keep running on assumption. About politicians. About the new kid at school. About our neighbors. About celebrities. Even about our closest friends and family — what they want, what they’re thinking, how they feel.

Sometimes assumptions help. If you can read social cues, they occasionally save you trouble — if you see a man in a Minnesota Vikings jersey, it’s fairly safe to assume he’s not an Aaron Rodgers fan.

But sometimes we are horribly wrong, and the assumption works against us.

The Assumption I Made as a Teenager

I grew up in a small town, and I simply assumed everyone knew I was a Christian. Most people knew I went to church. I didn’t swear, I didn’t drink, and I didn’t date girls who did — which was easy, since no girl wanted to date me.

And I assumed that because they knew I was a Christian, and could see it in how I lived, they would want to become Christians too.

I used to love the line often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi: “Preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.” Then I found out there’s no record of him ever saying it.

And then I learned something more important: it’s biblically wrong.

Two weeks ago we talked about what it means to be a penny Christian — one sent to live like Jesus lived and love like Jesus loved. And we saw that if you follow Jesus, you’re sent, and one of the things you give is your time. Last week we saw you also have to give your heart — your presence, being with people and for people.

But as good and beautiful and necessary as those are, if you genuinely give your time through the giving of your heart, there will come a moment when you have to give words.

You cannot assume people will simply pick it up. All your time and heart will do is create curiosity. And then someone will want to know more — and that requires words.

An Ambassador in Chains

Open to Ephesians 6.

Paul wrote this letter to the church in Ephesus, a church he’d planted and a city where he lived longer than anywhere else. Eventually he moved on and left Timothy in charge.

Reports about his churches often reached him, and usually they were reports of problems. Ephesians is one of the few letters where that isn’t the case. It reads almost like a celebration — you’re still following Jesus, and I’m so encouraged. But also: don’t forget what I taught you. Keep going.

The letter is six chapters long. The first three are the theological significance of the gospel; from chapter 4 on he shifts to the practical implications — how you should therefore live, think, and speak.

And near the end, right before the customary first-century closing greetings, he writes this:

Praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.

These verses flow directly out of the famous passage on the armor of God — Paul taking a Roman soldier’s gear as a picture of the invisible spiritual armor God has given every follower of Jesus for the spiritual battle.

And one of the weapons God has given you is prayer. Which is exactly why the armor passage flows straight into “praying at all times.”

Kids, when does he say to pray? At all times. Something great happens — pray, thank God. Something awful is happening — pray, ask God for help. You hear about something going on with someone else — pray, ask God to help them. Any time at all, start talking to God.

Notice the pattern: pray at all times, for all things, and specifically for your fellow followers of Jesus. And then — and also for me.

Two Words Worth Noticing

Look at how Paul describes himself in verse 20: an ambassador.

Kids, an ambassador represents one government to another. If the United States wants a relationship with Mexico, we send an ambassador who lives there and represents American interests to the Mexican government.

Paul isn’t an ambassador for Israel to Rome. He’s an ambassador for the gospel.

And then he adds three words that change everything: in chains. That’s his poetic way of saying he’s in prison.

When Paul writes this letter, he’s under house arrest in Rome. When we return to the book of Acts we’ll eventually reach the moment where he’s arrested for his faith, put on trial, and — because he’s a Roman citizen — appeals to Caesar, as was his right. So they ship him to Rome, where he sits awaiting a trial that will take years to arrive.

A guard makes sure he doesn’t leave. He can receive visitors. And he has enormous amounts of time to write, which is precisely why we have so many of his letters.

In another letter, Philippians 1:13, he says his imprisonment for Christ has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to everyone else.

So think about it. If anyone could rely on people simply assuming what he was about, it’s Paul. Everyone in the palace guard knows exactly why he’s there.

And that assumption isn’t enough for him. He specifically asks: pray that words may be given to me.

Paul knew it wasn’t enough to give his time — and he’s giving enormous amounts of time, sitting in prison. He knew it wasn’t enough to give his heart — this man has given his entire life for the gospel, and everyone knows it.

He still says: pray that words may be given to me.

I don’t know about you, but I find that remarkable. God used this man to write a substantial portion of the New Testament. If anyone was good with words, it’s Paul. And he still asks for prayer for words.

Which means if he needs prayer for words, you and I certainly do.

Words Must Sync With Your Life

But Scripture also puts cautions around our words. Jesus, speaking to the Pharisees in Matthew 12:

For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The good person out of his good treasure brings forth good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure brings forth evil. I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.

Your words matter enormously. And they have to be in sync with the life you live.

There are pastors no longer at their churches — some no longer in ministry at all — who stood on a stage like this one preaching good words while behind the scenes the words were entirely different. Tearing people down. Crude jokes. Presenting one thing publicly while drawing from an entirely different treasure privately. Eventually it caught up with them.

God wants you living in complete sync. Which is exactly why last week matters: to give your heart, you have to keep sowing to the Spirit. We were in Galatians 6, where we saw that you reap what you sow. So sow to the Spirit. Pour yourself into Christ — because the more you are in Christ, the greater your treasure, and the more you have to draw on when it’s time to speak.

This doesn’t mean you’ll never botch it. You’ll have moments where you’re angry, or frustrated, or short on sleep, and you’ll say something you regret. All of us do.

The question is what happens next. If you’ve been living a Christ-centered life, then when you go to that person to make amends, they’ll believe you. They’ll forgive you, because they’ve seen how you live.

But if you live consistently for yourself, making everything about you, then even when you try to make amends they won’t believe it — because they’ve sensed the treasure you’ve been storing up, and they don’t sense that you’re for them.

The more you seek Christ, the more you have to draw on, so that “I’m sorry, will you forgive me” lands as true. And the more you seek Him — letting Him do something deep in you — the fewer of those moments you’ll have in the first place.

Tip One: Pray

Three tips for giving your words. The first comes straight out of Ephesians 6: pray. And there are three specific things to pray for.

Pray for the words.

If Paul asked for prayer for words, so should we.

Often when someone asks you a spiritual question you get nervous, and that’s fine. But usually the nerves come from a specific fear: I’m going to mess this up. I don’t know what to say. I’ll say something wrong, they’ll hear it wrong, and I’ll ruin the whole thing. Better to stay quiet.

Let me take some pressure off. In Matthew 10, Jesus is sending out the twelve, warning them that some people won’t like what they hear and will drag them before courts, kings, and governors. And He says:

When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

The same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead and worked in those twelve is the Spirit you have. The moment you put your faith in Christ, God’s Holy Spirit came to live in you, and He is able to give you the words you need.

So when the question comes and the nerves rise, pray: God, give me the words to say. Then trust Him.

Pray for boldness.

Whenever I read Paul’s letters he strikes me as fearless — never afraid to say what needed saying. And yet notice he asks for prayer for boldness twice in three verses. “That words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly.” And then: “that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.”

So if you find yourself nervous at the thought of answering someone’s spiritual question, you’re in Paul’s company. Pray not only for the right words but for the confidence to say them.

And let me define this, because in our era “boldness” has come to sound like volume. Boldness does not mean standing on a street corner screaming that everyone is going to hell. Boldness simply means speaking up. Speak with love. Speak with grace. But speak — and trust that God can use it.

Because again, nobody puts their faith in Jesus because you phrased everything perfectly. It happens because God opens hearts and minds.

There’s a story in Numbers 22 where God speaks through a donkey. A pastor built an entire podcast around that, with the tagline: if God can speak through a donkey, He can speak through you.

So have some confidence. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t prepare, study, and read. It means that ultimately you trust God — who loves that person far more than you ever could, and therefore genuinely wants to use you.

Pray for opportunity.

You can pray for the words and pray for boldness, but if you never get a chance to speak, nothing happens. So pray that God gives you the opportunity.

Obviously this applies to the last two weeks as well — pray for opportunities to give your time and your heart. But pray for openings to use words too.

Twenty years ago, a campus ministry at the university nearby had a student in it — a sophomore, fairly new in his faith, genuinely excited about it and wanting to share it. The problem was that he was an extreme introvert. He was nervous talking about himself, let alone his faith.

One day, meeting one-on-one with a staff member, he confessed it. “I’m a chicken.” And then he said something I’ve never forgotten: “So I’ve just admitted I’m a chicken evangelist. I pray that God would give me an opportunity. And when He brings the opportunity, I pray He’d make me bold. And in that boldness, I share the words.”

That incredibly shy, introverted young man saw three of his friends come to faith in Jesus in a single semester — simply because he was willing to ask God for the opportunity.

If the chicken evangelist can do it, you can do it.

Tip Two: Ask Questions

When we think about evangelism, we’re usually consumed with what we’re going to say. I think we should often focus more on what we need to learn.

Because there’s a story in this other person. Learn it. Listen. Find out everything you can about them. Ask questions.

So kids — if a friend asks, “What do you believe about this?”, instead of immediately saying “well, my parents say” or “my church believes,” try starting with: That’s a great question. Why do you ask? What’s going on in your life? Tell me about your spiritual background. What do you currently believe?

Two things happen when you ask.

First, you get wiser about what words to share. You won’t launch into a canned speech that’s empty of meaning and love — you’ll tailor it, because you actually understand who they are and what God is doing in their life.

Second, asking genuine questions shows you actually care about them.

And note that word genuine. About a month ago I was in a conversation with someone who asked a lot of questions — but every time, it was obvious he already knew the answer. He’d ask, delight in the fact that I didn’t know, and then supply it himself. He came out of that conversation feeling very smart, and I came out feeling very dumb.

Don’t ask questions like that. Ask questions because you genuinely want to know them. As the old line goes, people don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.

Tip Three: Keep the Focus on Jesus

This is probably the most important one.

We live in a deeply divided age. People are arguing about everything, and it is remarkably easy for a spiritual conversation to slide onto someone’s pet topic.

I’m not saying those topics don’t matter. I’m saying something matters more: Jesus.

So if you lean conservative theologically or politically, your goal in these conversations is not to win them over to a seven-day creation. Your goal is not to convince them that marriage is between one man and one woman. Because even if you succeed — if they haven’t put their faith in Jesus, nothing of eternal value has changed.

Likewise, if you lean progressive, your goal is not to convince them of the evils of systemic racism, or to move them from one political party to the other.

Your goal is to help them see the love of God as shown through Jesus on the cross and out of the empty tomb.

Which is why the apostle John concludes the third chapter of his Gospel this way:

Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him.

Your goal is not to get someone to agree with you on your pet topic. The starting point is Jesus.

Once someone has put their faith in Christ, then absolutely — now let’s talk about what the gospel says regarding that issue. But if they aren’t a follower yet, and you get snagged on it, they may never get there at all.

So as much as possible — and I know it’s hard — keep the focus on Jesus. That’s where the love of God is most vividly displayed, and that’s what they need.

Give your time. Give your heart. And then, when the moment comes, give your words.