The Daniel Dilemma預覽

Daniel knew that the way he represented God mattered. He understood that his character, attitude, and demeanor mattered just as much as his words and actions. Daniel became a person of influence in the pagan culture of Babylon because he maintained his convictions and exercised his faith in a manner that reflected honesty, openness, and curiosity. We can learn so much from his example.

Before Christ, our entire lives are about finding God and letting God do a work in us. But once that happens, our mission on earth changes. Just like Daniel in the decadent, sinful, anything-goes world of Babylon, this is our purpose in our generation—to influence it for Christ. . . .

I know it’s not always easy and that sometimes you don’t know what to say. But that’s okay—it’s really not as hard as you might think. Sharing your faith is all about relationship, not right answers or slick presentations.

It’s undeniably clear in Scripture that Jesus commanded all his followers, not just those in full-time ministry, to share the good news with everyone around them. “Jesus said to his followers, ‘Go everywhere in the world, and tell the Good News to everyone’ ” (Mark 16:15 NCV). You don’t have to be well spoken or have a dramatic story to tell; you just have to be real. Paul wrote, “We are Christ’s ambassadors; God is making his appeal through us” (2 Cor. 5:20 NLT).

But it’s become difficult in an increasingly skeptical world. Unfortunately, some Christians think their purpose is to argue. They feel compelled to get in people’s faces, tell them what they’re doing wrong, and demand that they change. The way they share their faith—if we can even call it that—is dogmatic, angry, and downright offensive. No wonder it turns people off; it turns me off! And, I suspect, it turns God off.

Why do I think this? Because Jesus told us he is the Good Shepherd, willing to leave the ninety-nine sheep to seek out the one that’s lost. Our motive for sharing our faith must always be grounded in this kind of urgent, loving attitude. 

The kind a parent has for a lost child.