Whatever Happened to the Clear Invitation?

Greg Laurie:

Whatever Happened to the Clear Invitation?

I became a Christian in 1970 during the Jesus Movement. I had been attending Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, California, more or less the epicenter of the Jesus Movement, where people from all walks of life came.

The church had no formal dress code, so as a teenager sporting long hair, I felt comfortable and welcome. One Sunday, I missed the morning service at Calvary, so I decided to attend another local church in the neighborhood

I arrived late. The preacher was already preaching. As I took my seat, I immediately felt uneasy. I could feel the cold stares of those sitting around me. My jeans and tennis shoes did not match the dress code.

The stares bothered me a little, but I thought, Well, these people are Christians; I'm a Christian. We're all brothers and sisters. I sat down near the front and opened my Bible. The preacher was wrapping up what sounded like a great message, so I decided to stay for the second service.

The stares continued into the second service. Even the preacher seemed to be looking at me. Others stole furtive glances at me out of the corner of their eyes.

The sermon was next, and the preacher stood up. He began by saying his message would be different from the one in the earlier service. "I need to preach the gospel in this service," he said. "I think some here don't know Christ."

Does he think I'm not a believer? I thought. "We all have sinned," he said, but what I think he really meant was, "You (yeah you, the one seated in the fourth pew on the left) are a sinner." He riveted his eyes on me while making sweeping gestures. He was sure he had a genuine hippie on the ropes.

I squirmed and brought my Bible to my chest so he could see it, as if to signal to him, "Don't waste your sermon on me; I'm already a Christian." But he preached on and then gave an invitation for people to come to Christ. The choir began singing "Just as I Am." Only one girl walked to the front. The choir kept singing; the verses kept coming like hot days in August.

Finally, the person to the left of me whispered, "Are you a Christian?" When I said yes, she seemed disappointed. Then someone behind me asked, "Are you a Christian?"

"Yes, I am; I'm a Christian." I felt like shouting it.

Then one of the robed choir members with poufy hair stood up and shuffled down from the platform and edged her way between the pews to where I was seated.

"Are you a Christian?" she asked. I weakly nodded. But I must confess I almost gave in to the peer pressure and became born again, again.

Stories like mine give evangelistic invitations a bad rap. We've all sat through a hundred poorly sung verses of "Just as I Am," waiting for an alleged someone to gather courage. It's enough to make one wonder whether invitations should have gone out with bell bottoms and the Carpenters.

Yet I'm a firm believer in evangelistic invitations--especially today, when so many churches attract seekers. I believe invitations can and must be done well. Here is what I have learned in publicly inviting nonbelievers to make a decision for Christ.

SIMPLE AND CLEAR

Evangelistic preaching is challenging because it must remain relatively simple. The temptation is to be clever, but it's best to keep an evangelistic message direct and clear. I love exploring the caverns of God's Word, but I try to resist that urge in an evangelistic sermon. An evangelistic invitation depends on clear content, clear language, and clear directions.

Clear content.

An evangelistic sermon should include certain elements--most notably the message of the Cross. I recently asked Billy Graham in what ways his preaching today differed from his preaching forty years ago. I barely had the chance to finish my question before he gave his decisive answer: "I preach more on the Cross and the blood. That's where the power is."

Except for preaching a watered-down gospel, the worst sin in giving an evangelistic invitation is making it confusing or overly inclusive. Here are the four elements of the gospel I include in every invitation. (The following outline was adapted from a message given by Billy Graham during the Madison Square Garden Crusade.)

First, I want my listeners to understand clearly where they stand before God. I say, "Number one, you must admit that you are a sinner. That's hard to admit. But the Bible says we've all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. You might protest, 'But I live a good life. I'm a moral person.' But the Bible says if you offend in one point of the law, you're guilty of all. Have you ever sinned? Have you ever broken a commandment? Then you're guilty. One sin is enough to keep you out of heaven. You have to admit you're a sinner."

Second, I explain Christ's provision: "Christ died on the cross for you. He died for your sin. He paid the price for you when he shed his blood. The apostle Paul said, 'He loved me and gave himself for me.' Scripture also tells us, 'While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.'"

Third, I explain, "You must repent of your sin. The Bible tells us that we must 'Repent, then, and turn to God, so your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord.' The word 'repent' means to do a U-turn, to go the other direction. Now you're going to walk away from sin and walk toward Christ."

Fourth, I lay the choice before them: "Last, you must receive Christ into your life. Becoming a Christian is not just believing a creed. It's receiving Christ into you, into your heart. The Bible says, 'For as many as received him, he gave them the power to become sons of God.'"

Clear language.

Not only must the content of the invitation be clear, so must the language. As a new convert I was bewildered by Christian jargon: "Welcome, brother, you're part of the body of Christ now. Walk in the Spirit and avoid the flesh." I thought, How can I be a part of "the body" and "avoid the flesh"? It sounded ghoulish.

Today many church leaders are sensitive to Christian jargon, but the principle bears repeating: be clear. Nonbelievers today are always less-churched and farther removed from Christianity than we think. Christian jargon repels, not attracts, nonbelievers. I'm not saying we should avoid biblical terminology like "repent" and "justification." We must simply define ourselves as we speak.

For instance, you might say, "To have your sins forgiven you must repent, which means to change your direction--to stop running from God and begin running to him instead."

Clear directions.

I've heard gripping evangelistic sermons bumbled by a confusing invitation. Nonbelievers need clear, simple directions. The prospect of raising a hand or walking the aisle is scary enough without added confusion.

First, people need to know what you want them to do. I will often say, "In a few moments, I'm going to ask you to do such-and-such, if you would like to make a personal commitment to Christ."

I've asked people to stand if they wished to receive Christ and then directed them to a counseling room: "If you wish to make a commitment to Christ, make your way over to that room. All others, please don't get up or leave early. Let's keep the aisles open for those who are coming to Christ."

I've also had people raise their hands and then said, "Go over to the side room now. We have some materials we want to give to you."

At funerals, I've said, "If you want to know more about following Jesus Christ, don't hesitate to come up and talk with me after the service."

Other pastors have their listeners meet their eyes while heads are bowed in silent prayer.

Second, listeners need to know why I'm asking them to stand or make a public commitment. I often say, "Jesus said, 'If you'll confess me before men, I'll confess you before my Father who is in heaven. But if you deny me, I'll deny you.' So you need to make a public stand for Christ."

I might continue, "Jesus said to Matthew, 'Get up and follow me.' And Matthew left his table and publicly followed him. When Jesus saw Zacchaeus up in a tree, he said, 'Come down from there. I'm coming over to your house for a meal.' Philip baptized the Ethiopian Eunuch with his entourage watching. These were public stands. Now, I'm going to ask you to make a public stand."

If people reject the invitation, so be it. But I need to make sure what they are rejecting is Christ and not a poorly executed and muddied invitation.

GENTLE PERSUASION

Conversion is a tender, mysterious moment. Who can understand it? I preach intending to persuade people to come to Christ, but only the Spirit gives life and brings conversion. When I give the invitation, I often remember the verse, "As many as were ordained unto eternal life believed." So much of giving effective invitations is just staying out of the Spirit's way.

Yet I want to give indecisive people a chance to decide. Persuasion is legitimate. It is the impetus many need to move from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. Sometimes after giving an invitation, I'll come back with a second appeal and say, "We're going to sing this one more time." (One more time means one more time; I don't play games with them.)

Sometimes I might say, "Realize that this is an eternal decision. Jesus said, 'You are either for me or against me, with me or opposed.' Indecision about Christ is a decision. Make your decision today. In this final moment, if you want to come, come." I want people to understand the implications of what they're doing. They need to know the consequences of rejecting Christ.

Manipulation is a danger; I am not a salesman trying to close the sale. After preaching an outstanding sermon, one pastor asked those who wanted to commit their lives to Christ to come forward. As the choir once again sang "Just as I Am," there was little or no movement in the congregation. The pastor then said, "Perhaps you would like to rededicate your life to Christ. Get up and stand here in the front." One person out of a congregation of 2,500 straggled forward. The pastor finally said, "Perhaps you would like to join the church. Get up and come forward!"

I was waiting for him to say, "Maybe you'd like to examine the veneer of the wood on my pulpit more closely. Don't leave me here alone! Get up here!"

If a person can be manipulated into making a decision for Christ, he can be manipulated out of it. Pressured in, pressured out. Besides, today's communication-savvy attenders will not put up with manipulation. It only makes everyone feel uncomfortable.

The same is true of music. Well-done background music can create the proper mood for people to evaluate where they stand with God. But never should it manipulate. Several more numbers by the back-up band is not the answer to an empty altar.

I often think of a Billy Graham crusade in England. The first night, the response to the invitation was overwhelming. The next day the British press claimed that Graham was using music to manipulate the people. That night the Graham team used no music during the invitation. All you could hear was the stomping of feet as people came from the bleachers. The response that evening was bigger than the response on the previous night.

The clear presentation of the gospel--not the music or other flashy techniques--must always be the entree of the invitation.

THE PASTOR AS EVANGELIST

I don't give invitations every Sunday at Harvest Christian Fellowship. In our church structure, Sunday morning is primarily for feeding the flock (though I'll break that rule if I sense God's leading). Sunday evening is our primary venue for reaching nonbelievers. The service is designed as an evangelistic Bible study. I generally work my way through a biblical text but lace the message with evangelistic statements to confront the listener. At the end, I often ask for a decision.

I've intentionally made the clear presentation of the gospel an integral part of my preaching. I believe deeply in the pastor-evangelist role. Charles Spurgeon, Martin Lloyd Jones, and Harry Ironside--these were pastors who did evangelism well. The need for the pastor-evangelist is great today, given our expertise at attracting seekers to our churches. But attracting seekers carries a responsibility to give them opportunities to choose eternal life. For many, all they need is to be asked.

In the final analysis, though, giving an effective invitation depends more on our God-given burden and sense of urgency than any technique we might employ. C.H. Spurgeon once wrote, "The Holy Spirit will move them by first moving you. If you can rest without their being saved, they will rest too. But if you are filled with an agony for them, if you cannot bear that they should be lost, you will find that they are uneasy too. I hope you will get into such a state that you will dream about your child or hearer perishing for lack of Christ, and start at once and begin to cry, 'O God, give me converts, or I die.' Then you will have converts."

D.L. Moody once preached the gospel but did not give an invitation; he told the people to go home and think about it. That night the Great Chicago Fire broke out, and many people who had been in attendance at that Moody meeting died. From that day forward, Moody determined never to tell people to go home and think about the gospel. He would ask them to choose each time he preached.

Salvation Army founder William Booth said that he wished he could have his soldiers-in-training exposed to hell for twenty-four hours: If they saw the consequences of rejecting Christ, they would be better motivated.

Moody, Spurgeon, Booth--these leaders model the evangelistic fervor I desire.

I was just a two-week-old Christian when I was dragged into witnessing on a California beach. I was a starry-eyed convert with not much training; I hadn't even memorized the tract I was handing out.

I walked up to a middle-aged woman and asked if she would like eternal life. Then I read the tract to her. When I got to the point where it asked the question, "Is there any good reason why you should not accept Christ?" she said, "No"--which meant yes. Suddenly I froze. I finally told her to close her eyes and pray while I frantically searched for a prayer to read--I hadn't planned on success.

As we were praying, I thought This isn't going to work. She isn't really becoming a Christian. After we were through, she opened her eyes and said, "Boy, something happened to me." And I said, "Yeah, something happened to me, too."

A fire had been lit in my soul, and I've been giving invitations ever since.

Greg Laurie is pastor of Harvest Christian Fellowship in Riverside, California, and is the evangelist for Harvest Crusades.

Used by Permission of the Author 

Copyright (c) Christianity Today/ Greg Laurie