Into the Dark

The next few thoughts build on my previous post, so if you haven’t read it yet, go back and take a look.

Recently, I wrote about feeling convicted by the reality that, as Christians, we often seek the comfort of our Christian bubble. I experienced this in college and even stepping into the “real world.” We tend to prefer the comfort of spiritual community over uncomfortable situations—like talking to a homeless man, sparking new conversations, or creating space to share the Gospel with non-believers.

None of those comfortable spaces are wrong. I greatly value the spiritual depth and connections I have with others. But the call to go and be true doers of the Word hits me like a ton of bricks. Instead of seeking someone out and risking rejection, I would often rather keep to myself at the grocery store, gas station, gym—wherever I am, not realizing it’s not about me, but about furthering God’s Kingdom.

It’s easier to attend a Bible study than to talk to someone on the street about Jesus. Some might say, “I just don’t feel comfortable doing that,” or “That’s where I draw the line.” But then what kind of Christians are we?

In college at Liberty (Go LU), I took an evangelism class. Our main grade was based on one short paper with this prompt: Go off campus, share the Gospel with someone, then come back and write about it.

My first thought? Absolutely not.

All I ever did was keep to myself and fly under the radar—that’s what I was good at. Now you’re saying I have to go seek someone out and tell them about Jesus? A lot of people just lied and wrote about it because they were too scared to go. I couldn’t do that. I had to at least try.

I remember walking around Walmart feeling like a creep, looking for someone to help just so I could start a conversation. I was nervous. I finally found a lady who seemed like she needed help loading groceries into her car and offered to help. It was two bags. I didn’t really get the chance to talk about Jesus. I just said, “God bless,” and moved on.

You can bet my paper—and my grade—were subpar.

The truth is, I was afraid. It was uncomfortable.

We used to go line dancing in Lynchburg, and one night I was walking with two buddies when a woman who was clearly homeless and sleeping on a bench asked us for help. My natural tendency would have been to keep walking—we had somewhere to be. But my buddy Holden stopped. He asked her questions. He asked if she knew Jesus and if he could pray for her.

She said yes.

At first, I was annoyed because we had plans. Then it hit me: this is someone’s daughter. More importantly, she is God’s daughter. How are we supposed to treat her?

That moment stuck with me.

About a month later, I was filling up gas when a homeless woman came up and asked me for money. This time, instead of brushing it off, I said, “I’d like to pray for you.” I prayed, gave her five dollars for the bus, and went on my way. Whether that money went to the liquor store or the bus station, I don’t know. But all we can really do is plant seeds.

Everyone knows the end of the Gospel of Matthew: “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations…” But the Great Commission doesn’t stop there. In Gospel of Mark 16:15, Jesus says, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation.” In Gospel of John 20:21–22, He says, “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” In Acts 1:8, we are told, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses…”

And then there’s this from James 1:22–25:

“But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing.”

Blessed in his doing.

Not just in his knowing. Not just in his studying. In his doing.

If we only listen but never act, we deceive ourselves.

It’s time to be the “weird” Christian—the one who steps out against what feels normal and seeks uncomfortable situations. We are not refined for comfort. We are refined for commission.

Bible studies, book clubs, and spiritual discussions are good—but they can also make us feel good about ourselves. It’s important that we leave room for God to work in and through us, because at the end of the day, it’s not about us.

We are here today and gone tomorrow.

This doesn’t mean you have to walk the streets every night. But it may mean initiating the awkward conversation. Inviting the coworker. Sitting at tables where your faith isn’t echoed. Asking deeper questions. Choosing obedience over image.

Share the love of God wherever you go, and let people feel that pouring out of you.

Doing these things may cost comfort, reputation, and convenience. But know your why.

My hope is that this encourages and challenges you to step into an uncomfortable space this week in hopes of sharing God’s goodness.

Let’s start being the Light that steps into the dark.