Mopelola went to the church’s Saturday evangelism twice, and both times she came home feeling like a failure. The team met at seven in the morning at the gate of a housing estate in Surulere. Each person was given a bundle of tracts and a street. Mopelola knocked on doors, smiled at security men, pushed leaflets under gates and tried to start conversations with people who were clearly on their way somewhere else. One woman took a tract without looking at it and dropped it in the gutter three steps later. A man told her to go and find work.
After the second Saturday she stopped going. She told herself she was not gifted in evangelism. Some people were, and she admired them. She would support them with her prayers and her offering.
On every other day of the week, Mopelola braided hair. Her salon was a small shop with two chairs, a standing fan, a generator outside the back door and a television that was always on. A full set of braids took between four and six hours. For that long, a woman sat in her chair with nowhere else to go, and by the second hour most of them were talking about everything: husbands, children, money, sickness, landlords, church, the lack of church.
One of her regular clients was a nurse at the teaching hospital, a woman in her thirties who came every six weeks. Over two years, Mopelola heard about her mother’s kidney failure, the dialysis bills, the brothers who would not contribute, and the night shifts that left her too tired to cry. Mopelola listened. She prayed silently while her fingers worked. But it never once occurred to her to speak about Jesus. Evangelism happened on Saturdays at the estate gate. This was business.
Then one afternoon, with NEPA gone in the middle of the braiding and the generator refusing to start, the nurse looked at her in the mirror and said, “Mopelola, how are you always so calm? Even now. What is it with you?”
PunchlineMopelola laughed, said “God is good,” and asked whether she wanted the braids a little longer this time.
She told me later that she thought about that moment for a week. Someone had asked her for the reason of her hope, and she had changed the subject.
When evangelism became an event
Church programmes for evangelism are not the problem. Crusades, outreaches, hospital visits and literature distribution have brought many people to Christ, and I thank God for every faithful worker who rises early on a Saturday to serve in them. If you are part of such a team, keep going.
The problem comes when evangelism becomes only an event. When it is something that happens at a scheduled time, in a designated place, led by people with the right gifts, ordinary believers conclude that it is not their concern for the rest of the week. They stop noticing the openings that God places in front of them every day, in the salon, the office, the bus, the hospital ward and the family compound.
The New Testament describes the gospel spreading mostly through ordinary relationships. Look at how the first disciples came to Jesus:
One of the two which heard John speak , and followed him, was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first findeth his own brother Simon, and saith unto him, We have found the Messias, which is, being interpreted, the Christ. And he brought him to Jesus. And when Jesus beheld him, he said, Thou art Simon the son of Jona: thou shalt be called Cephas, which is by interpretation, A stone. The day following Jesus would go forth into Galilee, and findeth Philip, and saith unto him, Follow me. Now Philip was of Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip findeth Nathanael, and saith unto him, We have found him, of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph. And Nathanael said unto him, Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? Philip saith unto him, Come and see.
Andrew had spent one day with Jesus, and the first thing he did was find his own brother. “We have found the Messias.” He did not wait to be trained. He did not organise an event. He went to the person closest to him and brought him to Jesus. Then Philip, newly called himself, went and found his friend Nathanael.
Nathanael’s response was not encouraging. “Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?” It was a prejudiced remark, the kind of dismissive thing people still say about towns and tribes they look down on. Philip did not argue. He did not launch into a defence of Nazareth. He simply said, “Come and see.” He invited his friend to meet Jesus for himself.
Brother to brother. Friend to friend. That is how the gospel moved in its first days, and it is still how most people come to faith. Ask a room full of believers how they first came to Christ, and a great many will speak of a friend or relative who played a part. The great preacher may reap the harvest in a single meeting, but very often someone had already been watering the ground for years over shared meals and long conversations.
Prayer before the open door
Paul wrote to the Colossians from prison, and near the end of his letter he gave them a short but rich instruction about life among unbelievers:
Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving; Withal praying also for us, that God would open unto us a door of utterance, to speak the mystery of Christ, for which I am also in bonds: That I may make it manifest, as I ought to speak. Walk in wisdom toward them that are without, redeeming the time. Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man.
Notice where he begins. “Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving.” Before he says a word about speaking, he speaks about praying. Everyday witness begins in prayer, because only God can open hearts and create opportunities. We cannot manufacture either.
Then he asks for their prayers for himself. Paul was in chains. If I were in a Roman prison, I know what I would ask the church to pray for. I would want the doors of the prison opened. Paul asks for a different door: “that God would open unto us a door of utterance, to speak the mystery of Christ.” He was more concerned with an opening for the message than with an opening for his own release.
That is a prayer any believer can pray every morning. “Lord, open a door today for me to speak of Christ.” You may be surprised how often He answers it, and in what unlikely places. A neighbour at the water point. A colleague in the lift. A customer who stays to talk.
Paul also asks that he may “make it manifest, as I ought to speak.” Manifest means plain, clear, visible. He wanted to explain Christ clearly when the door opened. That is a good request too, because many of us have had the experience Mopelola had. The door opened, and we did not know what to say. It is right to pray for the opportunity. It is equally right to pray for clarity when it comes.
Notice, too, the thanksgiving. Paul wants prayer for unbelievers to be accompanied by gratitude. A grateful believer is more likely to see the good God is doing, and far less likely to treat people around him as a problem to be solved.
Wisdom toward those outside
NuggetThe next lines turn from prayer to conduct. “Walk in wisdom toward them that are without, redeeming the time.”
Them that are without simply means those outside the community of faith. Paul assumes believers will live alongside them, work with them, trade with them and share streets with them. The question is how. His answer is wisdom: thoughtful, sensitive, practical godliness that considers how our words and actions will be received.
Wisdom means you do not preach at your boss during a staff meeting he is chairing. It means you are honest in your dealings before you are vocal about your faith. It means you understand that the security guard who has had a night shift may not want a theological discussion at six in the morning. It means paying attention.
Redeeming the time is a vivid phrase. The verb Paul uses comes from the marketplace. It means to buy up, to purchase while the opportunity is there. Think of a trader at Balogun who sees a good bargain and buys it before someone else does. Opportunities to speak of Christ are like that. They come, and they pass. A person is open today because of a crisis or a question, and next month the moment may be gone. Wisdom recognises the moment and makes use of it.
Then the speech: “Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man.” Alway means our ordinary conversation, not just our religious conversation, should carry grace. A believer whose everyday talk is full of gossip, complaint and harshness has made the gospel harder to hear before he even mentions it.
Seasoned with salt suggests speech that has flavour. It is not bland, not dull, not artificial. Salt also preserves; it prevents decay. Our words should be interesting enough to be worth listening to and wholesome enough to do good. And notice the final phrase: “how ye ought to answer every man.” Each person is different. The answer you give a grieving mother will not sound like the answer you give a sceptical engineering student. Attentive witness listens first, then answers the person who is actually in front of you.
Everyday witness begins with prayer for an open door, continues with attentive wisdom toward the person in front of you, and is ready to speak clearly of Christ when the door opens.
A chariot on a desert road
Luke gives us a detailed picture of one such conversation, and it repays careful attention:
And the angel of the Lord spake unto Philip, saying, Arise, and go toward the south unto the way that goeth down from Jerusalem unto Gaza, which is desert. And he arose and went: and, behold, a man of Ethiopia, an eunuch of great authority under Candace queen of the Ethiopians, who had the charge of all her treasure, and had come to Jerusalem for to worship, Was returning, and sitting in his chariot read Esaias the prophet. Then the Spirit said unto Philip, Go near, and join thyself to this chariot. And Philip ran thither to him , and heard him read the prophet Esaias, and said, Understandest thou what thou readest? And he said, How can I, except some man should guide me? And he desired Philip that he would come up and sit with him. The place of the scripture which he read was this, He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and like a lamb dumb before his shearer, so opened he not his mouth: In his humiliation his judgment was taken away: and who shall declare his generation? for his life is taken from the earth. And the eunuch answered Philip, and said, I pray thee, of whom speaketh the prophet this? of himself, or of some other man? Then Philip opened his mouth, and began at the same scripture, and preached unto him Jesus.
Consider what Philip was doing before this. He had been preaching in Samaria, where crowds were believing and there was “great joy in that city” (Acts 8:8). Then the angel told him to go to a desert road. From a busy revival to an empty highway, for the sake of one man. God’s attention to individuals is striking. He would leave the crowd for one seeking heart, and He asked His servant to do the same.
Notice the sequence. Philip was obedient: “he arose and went.” He was alert to the Spirit, who said, “Go near, and join thyself to this chariot.” He was eager: “Philip ran thither to him.” That detail is lovely. He did not stroll reluctantly.
Then look at what he did when he arrived. He listened first. He “heard him read the prophet Esaias.” In that culture, reading was often done aloud, and Philip could hear exactly which passage the man was reading. He did not interrupt with a prepared speech. He asked a question: “Understandest thou what thou readest?”
That is the heart of attentive witness. Philip did not begin with his own agenda. He began with where the man actually was. The Ethiopian was already reading Scripture, already asking questions. Philip simply joined the conversation God had started.
And the man welcomed him: “How can I, except some man should guide me?” Then he asked his own question: “of whom speaketh the prophet this? of himself, or of some other man?” That is the moment. “Then Philip opened his mouth, and began at the same scripture, and preached unto him Jesus.”
Began at the same scripture. Philip did not change the subject to a favourite gospel outline. He started with the man’s own question and the text in his hand, and he led from there to Jesus. In everyday conversation the same principle applies. A colleague’s question about suffering, a neighbour’s fear about the future, a client’s grief over her mother: each of these can be the “same scripture” from which we begin, if we listen well enough to hear the real question.
PunchlineNot every conversation unfolds like this one, with a seeker already reading Isaiah 53. But many more doors stand open than we notice, because we are not listening for them.
Ready when someone asks
Peter wrote to believers who were scattered across Asia Minor, many of whom faced suspicion and hostility from neighbours. His instruction to them is one of the most quoted verses on evangelism:
But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear: Having a good conscience; that, whereas they speak evil of you, as of evildoers, they may be ashamed that falsely accuse your good conversation in Christ.
Begin where Peter begins: “sanctify the Lord God in your hearts.” Before you are ready to answer anyone, Christ must be set apart as Lord in your own heart. Witness flows from worship. The calm the nurse saw in Mopelola came from somewhere. It was the fruit of a heart where Christ was honoured.
“Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you.” The word answer is apologia, a reasoned explanation, the kind a person gives when asked to account for something. Notice the assumption. Peter expects people to ask. He assumes that believers will live with a hope visible enough to raise questions. If no one ever asks us about our hope, it may be worth asking ourselves whether it is visible.
Ready does not mean scripted. It means prepared. You have thought about what you believe and why. You could explain, in a few plain sentences, who Jesus is, what He has done, and why it gives you hope. You have done that work in advance, so that when the question comes in the middle of a power cut, you do not reach for a cliché.
Then comes the manner: “with meekness and fear.” Meekness toward the person, so that you do not argue to win or speak down to them. Fear toward God, so that you speak with reverence, knowing that you handle holy things. Peter adds “having a good conscience,” because a believer whose conduct contradicts his words will find his answers ignored. When people speak evil of us, our good conduct should make the accusation look foolish.
Neighbours, not projects
There is a danger in all this, and it must be named. Some believers, eager to obey, begin to treat everyone they meet as a target. The friendship becomes a strategy. The kindness has a hidden purpose. People can sense this, and they are rightly offended. Nobody wants to discover that a friend was only friendly in order to recruit them.
Jesus never treated people as projects. When the rich young ruler came to Him with his question, Mark records that “Jesus beholding him loved him” (Mark 10:21). Jesus spoke the truth to him plainly, and the man went away sorrowful. But Jesus had loved him first, and He loved him still as he walked away.
Our love for neighbours cannot depend on whether they respond to the gospel. The nurse in Mopelola’s chair deserved care and attention whether or not she ever came to faith. If our kindness switches off when someone shows no interest in Christ, it was never kindness.
That also means we need not manufacture a spiritual conversation every time we meet someone. Some believers feel guilty unless every encounter ends with a gospel presentation. That is exhausting for them and often wearisome for others. Friendship includes ordinary things: football, food, prices in the market, children’s exams. Real relationships give the gospel a natural place to arise. Forced conversation can close doors that patience would have opened.
At the same time, we must not swing to the opposite error. Some people say that we should simply live good lives and let our lives do the talking. Jesus did say, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). Good works matter enormously. But good works alone cannot tell someone that Jesus died and rose again. Paul asks, “how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard?” (Romans 10:14). A kind life without a clear word leaves people admiring us instead of trusting Him. Love listens patiently, and love also speaks.
Telling what the Lord has done
Not everyone feels able to explain theology. But every believer can tell what the Lord has done for them. Consider the man Jesus delivered in the region of the Gadarenes:
And when he was come into the ship, he that had been possessed with the devil prayed him that he might be with him. Howbeit Jesus suffered him not, but saith unto him, Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee. And he departed, and began to publish in Decapolis how great things Jesus had done for him: and all men did marvel.
This man had been tormented for years, living among the tombs, cutting himself, feared by the whole region. Jesus set him free. Understandably, he wanted to stay with Jesus, to travel with Him and be part of His company. Jesus refused. “Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee.”
Jesus sent him back to his own people. They knew who he had been. They had seen him in chains. Now they would see him clothed and in his right mind, and they would hear him explain why. His witness to them would carry a weight that no stranger’s could.
And notice what Jesus told him to say: how great things the Lord had done, and how He had had compassion. Mark records that “he departed, and began to publish in Decapolis how great things Jesus had done for him: and all men did marvel.” He was told to speak about the Lord, and he spoke about Jesus. The testimony pointed to the person.
That is an important guide for our own testimonies. Your story matters, but it should always lead to Christ. The man born blind in John 9 could not answer every theological question the Pharisees threw at him, but he could say, “one thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see” (John 9:25). That simple testimony was unanswerable. Yours may be too.
Recognising the moments
How do we grow in attentive witness? Here are some practical patterns that many believers have found helpful.
Pray daily for a few named people. Choose three or four people you see regularly who do not know Christ. Pray for them by name, for their needs, and for an open door. Prayer changes the way you see them. It turns them from background figures into people you are watching for God’s sake.
Listen for real questions. People often reveal spiritual hunger indirectly. A remark about death after a funeral. A question about why bad things happen. Anxiety about a child. Curiosity about why you do not join in certain things. These are often openings. Ask a gentle follow-up question rather than launching into a speech.
Notice seasons of transition. People are often more open when life shifts: a new baby, a bereavement, a job loss, a move to a new city, a serious diagnosis. Be present with practical care in those seasons. Sometimes the most powerful witness is the believer who keeps showing up after everyone else has gone home.
Be ready with a short, clear explanation of the gospel and your own story. Practise it with a believing friend if that helps. Make sure Jesus’ death and resurrection are in it.
Respect boundaries. Workplaces sometimes have rules about religious conversation during work hours, and you should honour them. Be especially careful where you have power over someone, as an employer, a teacher or a landlord. A person who depends on you for wages or grades may feel unable to say no. Never let them feel that their position depends on their response.
And keep church programmes in their place. They are valuable, and they are often a good next step for someone you have been talking with. An invitation to a carol service, a special meeting or a small group can be the natural continuation of a conversation that began in your living room. The programme and the relationship work best together.
The next time the nurse came for her braids, Mopelola was ready. She had spent the week thinking and praying. She had written a few sentences in her notebook and practised them in her head while she worked on other clients.
About two hours in, the nurse mentioned her mother again. The dialysis was no longer working well. Mopelola stopped braiding for a moment and said, “Last time, you asked me why I am calm. I gave you a bad answer. Can I give you the real one?”
The nurse nodded in the mirror.
Mopelola told her, simply, that she was not calm because life was easy. She had buried her own father three years before. She was calm because she had come to know Jesus, who had died for her sins and risen again, and who had promised never to leave her. She said that because of Him, she was not afraid of death, and she did not carry her troubles alone. Then she said, “I am praying for your mother. Would you let me pray for you too, before you go today?”
The nurse said yes. She cried a little. She did not give her life to Christ that afternoon. But she asked questions the next time she came, and the time after that, and eventually she asked Mopelola to take her to church. The Saturday evangelism team never met her. She came to faith through a conversation in a salon, between braids, over two years and many hours.
Mopelola has since joined the Saturday team now and then, and she no longer comes home feeling like a failure. But she knows where most of her witness happens. Her mission field has two chairs, a standing fan and a generator that does not always start. Yours may be a classroom, a shop, a ward or a family WhatsApp group. Pray for an open door. Listen well. And when someone asks you for the reason of the hope that is in you, do not change the subject.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- Who are the people you see most often who do not yet know Christ? How well do you actually know them?
- What would change if you prayed every morning for “a door of utterance” in your ordinary day?
- What does Philip’s conversation with the Ethiopian teach you about listening before speaking?
- Can you think of a time when someone asked about your faith and you changed the subject? What would you say now?
- Where are you in danger of treating people as projects, or of hiding behind “lifestyle” without ever speaking?
This Week
Write down the names of three people you see regularly who do not know Christ. Pray for each of them by name every morning this week, asking God for an open door and for clarity when it comes. Then write out, in about one hundred words, why you have hope: who Jesus is, what He has done for you and what He means to you now. Keep it with you. If someone asks, be ready.
A Prayer
Lord, thank You for placing me among people who need to know You. Forgive me for the times I have kept evangelism inside a programme and walked past the doors You opened in my ordinary day. Open a door of utterance for me, and give me wisdom toward those outside. Let my speech be gracious and seasoned with salt. Help me to listen as Philip listened, to love people without treating them as projects, and to speak clearly of Jesus when someone asks. Set Christ apart as Lord in my heart, so that my hope is visible. Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.