It was Saturday morning, and I suddenly heard an earnest knock at the door. Up until a moment before, I had been quietly sipping caffeine and strategising my ‘get stuff done’ list for the day, but now, fully aware of the ‘ugh’ feeling surfacing in my chest, I reluctantly shuffled to the door to see what was awaiting me. My neighbour, Sara*, was standing there in a panic with tears in her eyes. “My cat brought a little bird into the house and it’s going to die. Can you help me?” she said, “I know that you’re a person of faith.”
As I shoved my feet into my trainers and rushed out the door, I worried that, within moments, Sara would be staring at me and expecting me to resurrect a bird from the dead! I mean, why else would she have skipped all the other houses in between hers and mine to find ‘a person of faith’? And what would it say about me – and my profession – if I didn’t have a clue what to do?
My wife Joy and I lead a charity called Start to Stir. We train Christians to find new starting points for sharing faith and to stir up every day spiritual longings that can stimulate gospel curiosity. Our years of working with youth from outside the church have made us keenly aware of the growing challenges that make it difficult for Christians to share our faith.
"Am I willing to be the kind of Christian that patiently paces alongside my friends, their friends, my coworkers, and my neighbours?"
But the biggest challenge for me, and perhaps for you, is fairly simple: most days I don’t feel I have the time and energy to engage with people who are increasingly far from God. I know that most people today need a real, live Christian to show and tell them the gospel. In a culture that possesses little residue of the Jesus story, a simple gospel presentation from the platform or the pulpit – or even a social media post – often does little to overcome our society’s simple indifference towards God. This means sharing faith will usually require my time.
When I consider the theme of giving, by far my most precious commodity is my time and my attention. I find it much easier to activate a bank transfer when it comes to meeting people’s needs rather than simply being available. So I wonder: am I willing to be the kind of Christian that patiently paces alongside my friends, their friends, my co-workers, and my neighbours?
I know I’m not alone in my struggle to give what’s most important to me. Even Jesus’ first followers wrestled with the desire to protect their energy levels. In John 4 we discover that, while Jesus focused on sharing living water, His disciples fixated on restoring lost calories.
But I’m growing. In addition to finding new starting points and learning how to stir curiosity, I’m learning to be ‘interrupt-able’. I’m learning to ease up on my ‘get things done’ list and to be available. I’m even learning to do my weekend projects with my garage door open! Yes, this means my DIY looks like 15 minutes of working interspersed with 20 minutes of talking (which is torture for a task-focused person like myself). But it also means I’m getting to know my neighbours. It means I get the opportunity to mention that we’ve been at church this weekend and loved it. It means I get to ask how they are doing and offer to pray for them and even say simple prayers with them.
I believe most of us as Christians really do want to share our faith more regularly. Something comes alive in us and actually gives us a charge when we have the opportunity to talk about eternal things. It shouldn’t surprise us. Jesus helped His disciples see that sustenance comes when we “do the will of Him who sent me” (John 4:34).
I wonder if the key to having more of these conversations isn’t about mustering up the courage to go out and speak with a stranger on the street, but simply giving God permission to interrupt what we think is most important.
So, what happened with our baby bird? Well, interestingly, in the 60 seconds it took to walk up the street, my neighbour confided, “I’m so glad you are willing to help and that you have faith. I just can’t have faith.” And when we opened her door, the fledgling chick was thankfully alive and huddled safely in a corner. I scooped him up as Sara held two curious dogs and one offending cat at bay. I asked if she would like me to pray for the bird. As she nodded her head emphatically and grabbed my hands, I said a simple prayer thanking God for seeing the bird and asking God to protect it before we moved it to a safer place.
Before leaving I encouraged Sara: “I understand that it seems difficult to have faith. But you have to start somewhere. Maybe this is a new start!”
I don’t think any of this would have happened if I wasn’t learning to give God permission to interrupt my plans. Now I’m eager to introduce Sara to the God who knows when a sparrow falls is the same God who knows her and loves her. I’m praying for a journey of faith to start from the simple interruption of a small baby bird.
*name changed for privacy
