Almost thirty years ago, as a young college student and a very new Christian, I was trained in the basic principles of evangelism. I learned to present the gospel using a simple tract, the Four Spiritual Laws. I discussed that little booklet with roommates, fraternity members, grad students, international students, and even professors. I presented the gospel to literally hundreds of people during my four years of college, and I found a tremendous amount of openness—even eagerness—to discuss spiritual things. In those days, I could assume the openness of the average hearer. My sole filter when considering a potential listener was, "Are you busy?" Today, many Christians attempting to do evangelism find that they now must assume the disinterest, or even the hostility, of the average hearer. As a result, the statistics on evangelistic success from most ministries are much lower than they were thirty years ago.
What accounts for this change? Our first instinct has been to examine ourselves. Have we lost our first love? Are we lacking in dedication or commitment? Are we as bold as we used to be? Our second response has been to reconsider our methodology. Is this booklet out-of-date? Are we behind the times? Should we expand this, enlarge this, reprint it in four-color, or make it available on CD-ROM? The option we rarely consider—perhaps because it sounds unspiritual—is that times have changed. Perhaps our nation has entered a different phase of the harvest cycle. Perhaps our culture's fields are not as ripe as they used to be.
A Less Abundant Harvest
In John 4, Jesus uttered His famous words, "I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest" (v. 35 NIV). Christians have often assumed that Jesus was stating a timeless spiritual principle: Now that the Messiah has come, a new era has begun. The fields will always be white for harvest. Is that what Jesus was saying? If so, He picked a strange metaphor. In actual farming, a time of harvest is followed by a time of rest, followed by a time of sowing, and the process begins all over again. In farming, no field is always ripe for harvest. Was Jesus telling us that His fields were different, in that they were always ripe? Or was He telling His disciples something about the day in which they lived? "But when the fullness of the time came," Galatians tells us, "God sent forth His Son . . ." (4:4). Much has been written about the "fullness of the time" and why the Messiah came when He did. Could it be that a part of the "fullness of the time" was that the fields of Jesus' time had been thoroughly sown and were now abundantly—perhaps uniquely—ripe for harvest?
I believe that one of the reasons American ministries enjoyed such evangelistic success thirty years ago is that our culture's fields much like the fields of Jesus' day, were abundantly white for harvest. I believe they were operating at the peak of a harvest cycle. Consider for a moment just a few of the forces that were working together to create the American culture in 1960, which had a climate of spiritual openness. Consider also how different that culture is today.
1960: Television was dominated by just three networks, wrote Newsweek international editor Michael Elliott, "which became the great postwar mass cultural phenomenon, so that everyone watched 'I Love Lucy' and 'The Honeymooners.'"
Today: "That's inconceivable now," Elliott wrote. "Today you couldn't possibly create the conditions in which people have precisely the same cultural references."
1960: In the 1950s, there was no significant immigration to the United States, creating a highly unified society.
Today: Within a few years, more than half of America's population growth will be due to immigration, creating a highly diverse society.
1960: Americans had great respect for the clergy and thought of America as a Christian nation.
Today: In the wake of several televangelist and ministry scandals, Americans distrust the clergy and view America as a pluralistic nation.
1960: As a response to the rampant materialism of the fifties, young people rejected materialism and worldly possessions.
Today: As a response to the rampant materialism of the eighties, young people are quite comfortable with worldly possessions.
It's not hard to see why the culture of the sixties was in many ways better prepared to consider the gospel than the culture of today.
What does the farmer do when his fields are ripe? He harvests, and harvest is what we did in the sixties. But what does the farmer do when his fields are no longer ripe? He sows, and that is precisely what we must now do to prepare for the next abundant harvest—and to avoid the spiritual famine that will result if we do not.
A Smaller Harvest Field
Let me state my concern plainly. Because we enjoyed such evangelistic success in the sixties, we told ourselves that the American fields would always be white for harvest. Because harvesting was so effective, we told ourselves that harvesting was the only technique we would ever need. If the fields are eternally ripe, we only need to harvest. Why bother with anything else?
Suppose your pastor preaches on the need for every Christian to witness of his faith and to reach out to his neighbors right where he lives. You return home, duly convicted and motivated to witness. But where do you begin? You consider the families around you. The family to your left is Hindu. The woman to your right is a radical feminist, with a placard by the front door that reads, "A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle." The man across the street has a car with a bumper sticker on the back: a fish that contains the name "Darwin" is consuming a little fish with a cross inside. Down the street lives a different sort of couple—a married couple with 1.2 children, college educated, and conservative in their values.
With whom do you think you'll attempt to share your faith? Much more importantly: What will you say to everyone else?
The problem is not simply that we fear talking with people who are so unlike us. The problem is what we think of when we think of sharing our faith. Because we think exclusively in terms of harvesting, the thought process that goes through our minds is, I can't harvest with a Hindu, or a feminist, or an evolutionist, so I guess I'll try to harvest with the Young Republicans. The tragic result is that we attempt to share the faith with those we think may be closest to it and say nothing to everyone else.
As this continues to happen on a larger and larger scale, our country begins to polarize into two distinct spheres: the Christian and the definitely non-Christian.
That is exactly the situation we have in our society today, and I believe most Christians are unaware of the great danger this situation presents. A generation ago our nation was similarly divided into the Christian and the non-Christian, but most non-Christians were at least friendly to and respectful of the gospel. Today, with less and less communication from the Christian world, true nonbelievers are free to grow more ignorant, more distant, and more hostile.
Broadening Our Field of Labor
Because times have changed, fewer Americans today may be receptive to a complete presentation of the gospel. It's not as easy as it used to be to say everything—but that doesn't mean you can't say anything. I may not be able to harvest exactly as I did thirty years ago, but I can say something to everybody I meet. That's what sowing is all about. The sower looks at his neighborhood, office, or campus and sees a harvest of fruit. He knows that some of the fruit in his field is ripe now, and he must find it before it spoils. He also knows that much of the fruit is not yet ripe, and some plants are far too immature to bear fruit at all. As a sower, he knows that there is something he can do to encourage the growth of every plant in his field, and none of his efforts are wasted. Even if he doesn't see the fruit of his labor, he knows that someone else may.
Where does the sower begin his work?
As strange as it may sound, the first thing every new farmer must do is not plant or water, but build fences. In other words, he must define the limits of his daily responsibility. This land belongs to me; that land does not. In the same way, the starting point for every sower is to define his "turf." Who are the people with whom you regularly come in contact? Think carefully through the people you encounter in an average week: the neighbors, car-pool members, co-workers, store clerks, etc. Work from the first person you see each day—perhaps the neighbor you greet when you fetch the morning paper—to the last person you encounter each night—the fellow parent you stand beside as you watch your daughter's soccer practice. These people represent your turf, the fields in which you have the opportunity to practice the sower's art.
With this introductory step completed, the sower is now ready to enter his fields. What exactly does the sower do? He cultivates, he plants, and he nurtures.
Adapted from Finding Common Ground by Tim Downs. Published by Moody Press. Copyright © 1999 by Tim Downs. Used with permission.