Questioning Evangelism, Third Edition

by Randy Newman

The first and most basic involves declaring the gospel, including the ability to clearly and concisely articulate the message of salvation.

Declaring the gospel also includes the sharing of one’s own story or testimony. Every Christian needs fluency in articulating how the Lord changed his or her life and the difference that change makes daily.

The second evangelistic skill is defending the gospel. Anticipating common questions, acquainting oneself with helpful discoveries from the past, and planning how to deliver this information in a logical sequence have to be part of “always being ready to make a defense” (1 Peter 3:15 NASB1995). The third skill—and this is where Questioning Evangelism fits in—is built upon the foundations of declaring and defending the gospel. That skill is called dialoguing the gospel.

They’ll be an exchange of ideas that lead both participants to the truth of the gospel. For one participant, it will be the first arrival at that point; for the other participant, it will be a rediscovery and a new appreciation of the message of the cross.

The goal of Questioning Evangelism is to help people know how to think about an issue more than what to think.

the gospel isn’t a product that we sell.

A rich man asked Jesus, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” That question was a great setup for a clear, concise gospel presentation. I can almost hear a disciple whispering in Jesus’s ear, “Take out the booklet.” How could Jesus not launch into the most perfect model for every evangelistic training seminar for all time? But how did he respond? He posed a question, “Why do you call me good?” (Mark 10:17–18).

At times (far too many, I’m afraid), I’ve answered questions with biblically accurate, logically sound, epistemologically watertight answers, only to see questioners shrug their shoulders. My answers, it seemed, only further confirmed their opinion that Christians are simpletons. My answers had, in fact, hardened them in their unbelief rather than softened them toward faith. I realized that, instead of moving people closer to a salvation decision, an answer can push them further away. Rather than engaging their minds or urging them to consider an alternate perspective, an answer can give them ammunition for future attacks against the gospel.

Answering a question with a question, then, often has significant advantages over using direct answers. It brings to the surface the questioner’s assumptions. It also takes the pressure off you—the one being asked—and puts the pressure on the one doing the asking. Shifting the burden of the response is important because as long as we’re on the defensive, the questioners are not really wrestling with issues. They’re just watching us squirm.

On a practical note, answering a question with a question might alleviate some hostility. When people ask questions that are really attacks in disguise, responding with a question deflects the heat. People usually don’t like the temperature and tend to adjust the thermostat accordingly, which helps create a more productive conversation.

When your neighbor asks, “Why do you think that Jesus was anything more than just a good moral teacher?” don’t take out your C. S. Lewis–inspired Lord-liar-lunatic diagram just yet. Wait a few seconds and ask her, “What makes you think that Jesus was a good teacher? Have you read a lot of His teachings? Which messages impress you the most about Jesus’s teaching ability? What would you say was Jesus’s main message?”

Becoming people of wisdom and compassion is the prerequisite for any evangelistic technique.

1. Avoid an Argument

Many an evangelizing Christian has won the battle but lost the war by not avoiding an ugly argument.

2. Recognize a Fool

3. Remember That People Are People

Don’t criticize, condemn, or complain. Give honest, sincere appreciation. Arouse in the other person an eager want. (That’s what a so-what testimony can do.) Become genuinely interested in other people. Smile. Remember that a person’s name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language. Be a good listener. Encourage others to talk about themselves. Talk in terms of the other person’s interests. Make the other person feel important—and do it sincerely.1

4. Remember the Power of the Tongue

Just sitting in silence and nodding your head might convey a tacit affirmation that serves the same function as flattery. But somewhere between total silence and nonstop talk lies wisdom.

We can imagine some of the “weapons of the world” that Paul had in mind—jargon, rhetoric, flashy images, emotional manipulation, and sales techniques—things that have as much appeal as those annoying pop-up ads on the internet. Weapons he would endorse include praying for people, quoting Scripture, giving literature, and proclaiming boldly the good news. But certain weapons—the ones that are able to “demolish strongholds,” “demolish arguments,” and “take captive every thought”—differ from those in the more common arsenal. Such weapons include dialogue, discussion, challenging questions, well-crafted explanations about life’s difficulties, and thought-provoking articles about various topics addressed from a Christian perspective. These weapons topple the weak scaffolds people are standing on, so they see their need for something more solid.

A good way to move “the whole struggle onto the Enemy’s own ground” is to start with a one-word question: “Really?”

When people say, “I think all people are basically good,” we could respond with, “Really? Does that include terrorists or child molesters or people who fire bullets randomly into a crowd?” If they are willing to concede that they didn’t mean all, it’s worth exploring where the lines are drawn between good, not so good, pretty bad, and downright evil.

Many things people say about religion are self-refuting. “All religions are true” is a common example. Despite the frequency of this pronouncement—or its many variations—all religions can’t be true. If one religion claims to be the only correct path to God (as Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and most other religions do), then a religion that contradicts it cannot be true.

Far too often, Christians assume a defensive posture and allow themselves to be backed into a corner. But our message is coherent, plausible, and beneficial. Other people should defend their messages. In so doing, the foolishness or impossibility of their religion will be demonstrated.

Asking the question, “Can you explain that to me?” helps build the plausibility structure that some things can’t be true. People can then search for criteria to determine which things can be true.

When I was an atheist I had to try to persuade myself that most of the human race have always been wrong about the question that mattered to them most;

Asking the question, “So?” helps build the plausibility structure that some things can be partially true without being fully true. As in a court of law, when it comes to finding a faith that meets all of our needs, we must find the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Isn’t it possible?” may be one of the most important ways to begin a question. It helps people consider that something might be true so that they ultimately can accept that it is true.

Noted philosopher and author Dallas Willard offered this advice for our interaction with such a person: “Often a good starting point when trying to help those who do not believe in God or accept Christ as Lord is to get them to deal honestly with the question: Would I like for there to be a God? Or, would I like it if Jesus turned out to be Lord? This may help them realize the extent to which what they want to be the case is controlling their ability to see what is the case.”4

Asking a question that begins with “Would you like it if …?” helps expose a flawed plausibility structure—one that says we sometimes believe things because we want to, not because they’re true.

One can ask, “How do you know that?” in a variety of ways. Each way can aid in the task of plausibility construction.

(Just as they would not want to be a member of the Ku Klux Klan—an organization that thinks that one race is superior to all others—no one would want to believe that one religion is superior to all others.)

Why didn’t anyone tell me that He was such a fanatic? It wasn’t just His claim of being “the way and the truth and the life” (John 14:6) that struck me. He had the audacity to forgive someone’s sins (Mark 2:1–12). He boasted that if you didn’t believe in Him, you’d die in your sins (John 8:24) because you were condemned already (John 3:18). He asserted that He existed before Abraham because He was the great I AM (John 8:58 NKJV). He honestly believed that He would live forever (Matt. 28:20) and be in the very midst of people who would believe in Him centuries later (Matt. 18:20). He called Himself the Resurrection and the Life, the Bread of Life, the Good Shepherd, and the Living Water, and He declared unashamedly, “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30).

“All things were created through him and for him.” Such things have no place on a mere mortal’s resume.

Try asking nonbelievers, “If Jesus is not the only way to salvation, why, then, did He have to die?” You’ll likely draw blank stares or create tied tongues. But until one understands the answer to that question, one will not see the reasonableness of Jesus’s “I am the way” claim. That answer must include both of these nonnegotiable truths of the gospel: God is more holy than we think. We are more sinful than we think.

Rather than aiming carefully at God’s target, we turn our backs and shoot arrows everywhere else. Wanting to please ourselves, we ignore the true bull’s-eye and set our affections on seductive targets that cannot satisfy, sanctify, or save. We are not primarily target-missers; we are self-centered false-target worshippers.

“If righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!” (Gal. 2:21). It doesn’t seem too strong to conclude that either Christ is the only way to God or He is no way at all.

“A lot of religions have a message that sounds like, ‘Try this. You might like it,’ or ‘This could help you achieve success and peace,’ or ‘You’re okay. This will help you improve.’ But evangelical Christianity says, ‘You’re not okay. You shouldn’t just try this. You have to believe it or you’re lost.’ That makes it a message that always sparks conflict. After all, Jesus bothered people everywhere He went.”

Before people benefit from the good news, they’re likely to be bothered by the bad news. If our goal is to avoid conflict, we need a different message. If, on the other hand, our goal is to be truthful (something more difficult than open-minded) and loving (something far better than tolerant), then we have the perfect message and the ideal model of how to proclaim it.

When people simply respond to pain with cold, calculated statements of theology, they deserve the title that Job gave his friends—“miserable comforters” (16:2). And God’s evaluation of their theological expertise was even less flattering: “I am angry with you … because you have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has” (42:7). And I think that God wants us to feel what Job felt when he asked his friends, “Will your long-winded speeches never end? What ails you that you keep on arguing?” (16:3).

God wants us to be strengthened to handle suffering, not informed so we can explain it.

Job finally declares, “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you” (42:5). His declaration confirms that, more than the answer to the ultimate why question, God wants us to know the answer to the ultimate who question.

In effect, then, the book offers us a choice. Will we choose to respond to life’s trials and pains as Job’s wife recommended: “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!” (2:9)? Or will we follow Job’s example and proclaim, “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him” (13:15)?

I learned there’s wisdom in living without an answer. In addition, it’s humbling. It brings our very finiteness to the surface of our souls. It reminds us we are not God! Although painful, we must repent of our insistence for an answer, seeing the very demand as a form of idolatry.

We do not know the reason God allows evil and suffering to continue, or why it is so random, but now at least we know what the reason is not. It cannot be that he does not love us. It cannot be that he does not care. He is so committed to our ultimate happiness that he was willing to plunge into the greatest depths of suffering himself. He understands us, he has been there, and he assures us that he has a plan to eventually wipe away every tear. Someone might say, “But that’s only half an answer to the question ‘Why?’” Yes, but it is the half we need.2

Once we let go of our idolatrous demand for intellectual satisfaction, we’re set free to seek God for comfort, hope, healing, peace, and, most importantly, salvation. When our friends ask us the ultimate why question, that’s what they really need. And that’s an answer we can give them.

“Here’s what I do know that compels me to follow this God.

Christians should love science. How could we, who love the Maker of the heavens and the earth, not celebrate the systematic, diligent, communal investigation of the world God made?

Scientism is an overstatement of the power of science and claims that science can explain everything. Sometimes it is stated as, “Science is the only way to know things” or, as a slightly less extreme version, “Science is the best way to know things.” A statement is self-refuting if it contradicts itself or states something that cannot possibly be true. As discussed in chapter 3, if I said to you, “I cannot speak or write a single word in English,” that would be a self-refuting statement. How could I write or say that sentence in English if I cannot speak or write a single word in English!

You say we cannot know anything unless we can prove it in a laboratory. But that statement cannot be proved in a laboratory. You say science is the best way to know things. That sounds like a philosophical assumption and not a scientific discovery. The belief that science is better than faith sounds like a faith belief. Maybe asking some questions might be better than making statements. For example: You say that science is the only way to know things. How do you know that? Science is better than faith? Is that something you can prove in a laboratory? Isn’t belief in science a kind of faith assumption? It sounds like you and I are both people of faith. You have faith in science and I have faith in the God who makes a world where science makes sense. Does that make sense?