THE MODERN AGE
It is the modern age. It is Christendom. It’s a time when many, many people across the UK go to church and where most of the populace think that church is ‘a good thing’. The populace also believes that, through the church, children, young people and adults will learn virtues and values which will enhance their lives. People trust Christian ministers and many folks still read their Bibles because it’s the source of trusted knowledge about God, a God who exists - after all, where would we come from if not from God? We are made in his image after all, aren’t we? Most people in the UK would call themselves ‘Christians’, even those who don’t go to church.
When it comes to evangelism and young people, a good part of the strategy is that of ‘vicarious evangelism’, where volunteer youth leaders train young Christians how to reach their peers. There are still many young people connected to the churches with many friends who share the same values as the young Christians, and so this strategy is seen as ‘sensible’.
The other part of the youth evangelism strategy is that, in the summer months, all across the country children and young people will go to camps run by the churches or Christian organisations and hear of Jesus and be encouraged to follow him. The adults who send their children and young people to these camps will do so in the knowledge that their kids will hear about Jesus: ‘the best person ever to walk upon this earth’. Furthermore, they believe that such knowledge will benefit their kids and so are happy about this.
In the modern age the Church is trusted, Jesus is trusted, the Bible is trusted, and Christians are trusted to take care of the young people and never to abuse that trust.
The move from modernism to post-modernism should make us think about how we do evangelism, especially with young people
THE POST-MODERN AGE
It’s the post-modern age. It is post- Christendom. It’s a time when few people go to church, and the Church has become something of the past, something of fading memory; something which most of the populace now have little or no contact with and which they can see little point in. Many ministers have now become seen as public functionaries who, like stretch limos, are hired for events like weddings and funerals. People may not even have a Bible in their homes. Few read it and even fewer trust it as a source of wisdom or practical knowledge for their lives. According to what they are now being regularly reminded of, God has been ‘disproven by science’ and mankind is now seen as ‘someone’ who has evolved from ‘something’ else which as yet has not been clearly identified. Man is now seen as being made in his own image: ‘who else’? Few people now call themselves ‘Christians’, although those who seem to have a faith which affects their daily lives. Christianity has been damaged by the reporting of events like the Troubles in Northern Ireland where words like ‘Protestant’ and ‘Catholic’ have been used without any understanding of the basics of a Christian faith which calls people to love not hate. Over the past decades, further stories have emerged of how ‘Christian organisations and church denominations’ have employed people who have abused their position of trust when it comes to looking after children and young people. Christians are therefore no longer automatically viewed as people you can trust.
When it comes to youth outreach and evangelism there are now far fewer young people connected to churches and so the vicarious evangelism strategy is of limited effect. Most young people now have little or no contact with the Church and, in Christian circles, these are now referred to as ‘unchurched’ young people. In order to reach these unchurched young people the churches have begun to employ more and more part-time or full-time youth workers, some of whom have trained to be such. Because the Church has now lost almost all meaningful contact with the rising generations, these youth workers, sometimes called youth ministers or pastors, spend a great deal of their time getting to know the unchurched young people, in order to ‘earn the right’ to share the good news of Jesus with them.
Camp evangelism, however, appears to remain almost unchanged. At such camps the churched young people continue to get a chance to hear more of Jesus and, much to the delight of their committed Christian parents, some commit their lives to him. Increasingly, these summer camps are a mixture of Christian and unchurched young people, many of whom have been brought by the youth workers they have got to know. These ‘unchurched’ young people come to such camps because they have met some really fine people: Christian youth workers who have taken the time to get to know them. These adults seem different: they actually seem to like ‘teenagers’ and spend lots of time taking a genuine interest in their welfare. These youth workers run weekly youth clubs, holiday clubs and year-round events that the ‘unchurched’ young people enjoy just as much as the ‘churched’ kids do.
At such camps those who speak to the unchurched young people often tell their own stories of coming to faith in Jesus and some youth workers even encourage these unchurched young people to ‘discover for themselves’ the power and love that comes from God. However, some of these well-meaning youth workers don’t even give a moment’s thought to what the parents of these young people would think of adults who took advantage of their sons and daughters at this vulnerable age, by asking them to convert to the Christian faith while away from home. When some unchurched young people do ‘convert’ and return home to tell their parents about the decision they have made, many parents are outraged at this abuse of trust; that people they thought they could trust would take such advantage of their sons and daughters.
In post-Christendom the Church is less trusted and part of that mistrust comes from the way some Christians act, i.e. as if they were still living and working in the modern age. In particular, this lack of trust concerns the manner in which evangelicals work with young people. This has led me to ask: what is actually ‘Christian’ about the way that we ‘do’ camp evangelism?
Often, it seems, we are tempted to bend the rules; to justify the way we do evangelism, because we are doing it with the very best of motives
THE ETHICS OF EVANGELISM
To be Christian essentially means to be connected and committed to following Jesus, to his life and example. So, as I think about what we do at such camps in terms of evangelism, I worry. I worry that many 21st Century evangelicals haven’t realised that we have moved from one age to another and that this change from modernism to post-modernism should make us think about how we do evangelism, especially with young people.
Don’t get me wrong here. More than anything I want young people to know the love and forgiveness of Jesus and to know his power in their lives. I want it because I know that the spirit of God only brings goodness into people’s lives. I want that desperately! But this doesn’t mean that just because I want it badly, I should give in to the temptation to cut ethical corners to get it. That desperate ‘wanting it so badly’ feeling is the feeling of temptation. From Genesis to Revelation, the Bible is full of sad stories of people falling into temptation and of temptation’s sad conclusion. From the exclusion from the Garden of Eden through to Joseph’s brother’s betrayals, and David’s sleeping with Bathsheba through to Peter’s denial of Jesus, the examples of ‘giving in’ are many. Perhaps that’s why Satan tried temptation on Jesus.
As I recently re-read the story of Jesus’ temptation I began to ask a question that I’d never really thought of before: what was it that Jesus could have wanted so badly that that Satan thought it worth tempting him? One thing is for certain: the account of the temptation of Jesus, in chapter four of Matthew’s Gospel, was one of the Devil’s endeavours to tempt Jesus to cut corners and do things the easy way. He was tempted by an outcome that he certainly wanted: ‘Thy kingdom come’! Yet Jesus resisted the ‘easy way’. For Jesus, the manner in which God’s message was brought to people mattered a great deal. By seeing how Jesus lived and acted, his followers discovered what God was like, how God would act, and therefore how they were called to act as well.
What then might be the particular temptation for evangelical Christians? Might it be to cut corners in order to see people saved? Often, it seems, we are tempted to bend the rules; to justify the ways that we do evangelism because we are doing it with the very best of motives. But the lesson of Jesus’ temptation is that it really does matter how we go about bringing the gospel to people because the method is intertwined with the message and the method defines our character: it defines what we stand for and what we stand against.
We need to carefully consider the ethics of asking young people to follow Christ when they are ‘caught up in the moment’
Those of us who run or take part in camps, especially the really brilliant ones where young people do get caught up in the thrill and emotion of the occasion, need to carefully consider the ethics of asking young people to follow Christ when they are ‘caught up in the moment’. All too often, because the camp has been a wonderful experience that young people don’t want to end, they do get ‘caught up in the moment’ and make impulsive decisions about following Jesus that don’t last. Therefore, knowing of this emotional high, we need to be very careful that we don’t exploit these moments, and end up doing things that Jesus never did. Could we ever imagine Jesus taking a group of young people away and, when they are separated from their parents, asking them to ‘follow him?’ In fact, did he not specifically discourage those who were ‘caught up in a wonderful moment’ from following him? That healed, freed, demoniac who wanted to leave everything and follow Jesus - didn’t Jesus discourage him because he was caught up in the moment? That enthusiastic rich young ruler - wasn’t he pushed back too?
In reflecting upon my own ministry I now realise that I have at times acted as if all the parents of the young people at camp would be glad that such an invitation would be afforded their sons and daughters. I’d acted as if I was living in Christendom, not post-Christendom. Around this time of year I receive newsletters acclaiming the numbers of young people who ‘gave their lives to Jesus’ at one camp or another. However, some months later, when I go and visit some of the youth projects who have sent me these newsletters, expecting to see the place full of these young ‘converts’, find that many appear to be absent. When I ask where they are, I’m informed that many have ‘fallen away’ or ‘lost interest’.
Let’s face it: there are many fantastic Christian camps across the country run with such a brilliant Christian spirit that the young people absolutely love their time away. I’ve had so many young people over the years describe camp as ‘the best week of their lives’. Even years later, when I come across some of them, they still describe it that way, for it really was brilliant! Yet many of these enthusiastic young people are not continuing in the decision to follow Christ that was made at one camp or another, and some freely admit that it was the excitement of the moment that overcame them; their response was really just a wish that this ‘special time’ would continue into their daily lives. When the camp ended and they returned home, and as the event faded into memory, the desire to follow Jesus waned. They’d been overcome by the emotions of the moment and once the moment ended, so did their enthusiasm.
If we are to follow in the way of Christ, to follow his example as well as his injunction to ‘go and make disciples’, we need to act in the same way that he did. He asked people to follow him in the cold light of day and not during some highly-charged event. For example, if we told the young people at camp of the life of Jesus and of our stories of God in our lives, and then made that invitation to ‘follow Jesus’ a fortnight after the camp was ended - we would be making that invitation in a much more Jesus like way. We’d be making it when these young people were back at home; when the buzz had died down; when they were not caught up in the moment and when their parents could come to any ‘event’ at which we’d make such an invitation. Perhaps, in doing so, ‘more seed might fall into good soil’, and I can’t help but wonder if we’d end up with more disciples and less ‘converts’. We wouldn’t be tempted to take shortcuts nor would we be acting unrighteously or unethically. We’d be resisting that temptation, just as Jesus did. What are our ethics of evangelism?
Chris’ Story
It was probably the morning after the night before that I realised I’d made a mistake. The night before, caught up in the excitement of being at a holiday as good as this - the best one I’ve ever been to - I put up my hand to say that I’d like to become a Christian. I’d not been to a Christian camp before and just thought that this was the kind of thing that new folks probably did so that they could come again next year. I’d liked the stories of Jesus too and, in bed at night after the lights went out, I’d wondered what it must have been like to have been there when all the action happened. I thought that I’d have liked to have been there, following Jesus, watching all that he did.
The morning after however, when I attended the meeting for those who put up their hand the night before, I realised that I’d misunderstood. The penny dropped when the leader began by saying something like, ‘It’s so great to know that you’ve decided to follow Jesus for the rest of your life’ and then went on to let us know what we could do to ‘get started as a Christian’. The rest of the meeting went by in a blur with me sinking lower and lower in my chair, hoping that no-one would ask me any questions. Fortunately no one did.
That afternoon things got worse. My youth worker Bill, who’d invited me to the camp and helped me raise the funds to get there, found me sitting by the pool and took the opportunity to congratulate me on ‘making my decision’. Without looking up I mumbled some platitude in return. Sensing some ‘disturbance in the force’, Bill gently said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure that you’ve got lots of questions but we’ll address these when we get back home.’ If I could have dug a pit right there and then and jumped into it, I would have. So many internal questions assaulted me: ‘How could I have been so stupid as to put my hand up?’; ‘Why hadn’t I listened more carefully to what was being asked of me?’; ‘Why did I even go to that morning meeting?’. Worst of all, ‘How could I have deceived Bill?’
How could I tell him that it had been a mistake, that I hadn’t really meant it? He’d seemed genuinely delighted that I’d ‘become a Christian’, positively beaming at me all throughout that morning meeting and patting me on the back when I’d picked up a booklet on the way out. I felt as if I’d betrayed them. I decided, there and then, that I wasn’t going to disappoint them. Instead I was going to disappear.
For the next 24 hours, until the bus left for home, I kept both busy and low. I volunteered for everything that would keep me away from Bill. If there was washing up to be done I’d do it. I’d hate it. I’d resent it. But I’d do it, because I knew that it would keep me away from Bill whose camp duties were to run the outdoor activities. I feigned enthusiasm and kept indoors and under the radar. Everyone, including Bill, seemed delighted at this new lease of life that I had and many complemented me on it. Inside though, I just wanted to die. I knew that I was faking it and doing things that were completely out of character, and yet it was what I needed to do to survive the 24 hours until I got home.
