Then he turned the question on me. "So what's your life story … in three minutes?" I swallowed my own medicine and offered it. He asked me about my job, and I described what was important to me and why I liked what I did. He appeared interested in everything I was saying, and I felt that he was measuring everything I said to see if it could fit into his experience.
There were one or two further breakfasts. I came to see him as a Nicodemus: a good man looking for a better grasp of what it means to have God in his life.
My early training in evangelism—had I applied it—would have led me to immediately ask my new friend "to accept Christ." As a college student, I had been one of those many who often fanned out across the campus using clever methods to pull people into a conversation intended to culminate in their saying a prayer that led to the promise of eternal life.
In those early days, I'd seen many pray the prayer, but I'd not seen many people stick with the implications of the prayer. When told afterwards that some form of church might be involved, that Bible study might come into play, that relationships of one kind or another might be expected, they tended to drift away. Free pass to heaven, no strings attached, was one thing; this version of eternal life with all its fine print was too costly. They said, in effect, you should have told me that stuff before.
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