God plans to rescue and redeem people from every culture: from Iran to China, from ancient Greece to ancient Rome, right down to people from the secular post-Christian West. And the beautiful thing is that rather than do it himself, which he has the power to, God chooses to work through us, despite our fears and our inadequacies. God delights in using the weak things of the world—because it’s when we realise we don’t have the ability, we’re forced to rely on him, as we’re supposed to.

Some of my favourite places to speak at are venues like coffee shops, workplaces, or universities. After one such university event, where the Christian Union had asked me to talk on “Why did Jesus have to die?” we had an amazing time of Q&A after which I felt the Spirit nudge me to end the event by leading people who wanted to in a prayer to commit their lives to Jesus. It was an incredible evening and God was very much at work. But I remember that one particular evening not for how powerfully the Lord moved, but for a conversation afterwards. As we were packing up to leave, a campus ministry leader came up us and asked: “How did you do what you did there?”
“What do you mean?”, I replied.
“You just preached the gospel very openly then prayed, very publicly, and invited people to respond to Jesus—and you did that in a university meeting room. I didn’t think evangelism like that was possible in this day and age. How did you and your colleague do that?”
That’s not the first time I’ve heard that sentiment expressed: that evangelism simply isn’t possible. That a workplace, campus, group of people, or even our culture is so secular and so post-Christian that evangelism just doesn’t work anymore.
I confess I’ve occasionally fallen into the same way of thinking myself. A few years ago I became friends with Peter, a Christian GP. And I remember being very surprised when one day he casually remarked “I love being a GP, it creates so many fantastic opportunities for evangelism”. Without thinking, I said words to the effect of “Really? I thought the health service was so secular and any expression of religious faith so frowned upon, that evangelism just isn’t possible?” Those three little words just slipped out: evangelism isn’t possible.[1]
Why did I instinctively respond with incredulity? Why was that campus minister baffled by seeing evangelism take place on campus? Why do many of us (if we are honest) worry or doubt that evangelism is really possible in “this day and age”? I think it’s because there is a massive temptation to buy into the myth that the secular UK (or the West in general) is simply too difficult ground for the gospel. But is this actually true? And if we’re in danger of thinking this, how can we overcome the Impossibility Gap?
Challenging the Myth of Impossibility
Because the Impossibility Gap is so deep rooted in many of us (we haven’t deliberately adopted it, but we’ve become quietly and subtly infected by it), I want to hit it and hit it hard—so here are six powerful pieces of counter-evidence that taken together will, I hope, form a powerful corrective.
First, however tough a context for evangelism the secular West may be, Christianity has grown (and grown rapidly) in equally tough (or even tougher) contexts in the past. For instance, look at the growth of the Church in the first century. The first century Greek and Roman world was not easy, far from it. Yes, it was very religious, but religiously pluralistic—the pagan world had little time for the idea there was one God and that every other god was a false one. Add to that the ever daily threat and problem of persecution, as the young Church was seen as an increasing threat to the authorities. Yet despite those challenges—a hostile culture and hostile rulers—the Church grew from 120 people in AD33 to 31 million by AD350; or to put it even more dramatically, from 0% to 52.9% of the Roman Empire in 300 years.[2] The early Church didn’t look at the culture and think “impossible”, they looked at it and thought “What a challenge! Let’s follow the Spirit’s lead and see what happens”.
From the past, we can also look to the present. For today, Christianity is growing like wildfire in far tougher contexts than the West. Look at China, where the Church is growing exponentially despite the best attempts of the Communist Party to stamp it out, that there are probably about 120 million Christians in China. Indeed, China is on track to become the world’s largest Christian nation by the 2030s.[3] That growth has all happened in the past few decades. Or consider Iran, where a totalitarian Islamic regime rules with the iron fist of Sharia Law and has made conversion from Islam illegal. But despite arrests and torture, the Iranian church now numbers over a million and is the fastest growing church in the world.[4] There are similar stories across the Middle East. Christians in these terrifically difficult settings could easily say “Evangelism is impossible; it can’t be done!” but they haven’t and God is at work in amazing ways. Let’s be encouraged by and learn from their courage, faith, and example.
Third, sometimes the Impossibility Gap grows because we have a tendency to romanticise our own past. We imagine that churches were full to bursting in Victorian times (and before) and we pine for the lost Golden Age of Christianity, when our country was so thoroughly Christian it was like living in heaven on earth.[5] But that is far from the reality. In Victorian times, surveys of religious attendance show a very mixed picture. For example, Horace Mann, commenting on the 1851 Religious Census remarked that ‘a sadly formidable proportion of the English people are habitual neglecters of the public ordinances of religion’.[6] One can read contemporary reports of ministers grumbling how ‘There were only a dozen people in church on Sunday, and three of them were drunk’.
A little earlier in time and Wilberforce, that famous Christian MP and reformer, was so upset by the spiritual state of the country that in 1787 he wrote in his journal that ‘God Almighty has set before me two great objects, the suppression of the slave trade and the Reformation of Manners’[7] (he meant by the latter the spiritual reformation of his country). A few decades earlier still, John Wesley was so concerned by the religious state of the UK that he threw himself into the re-evangelism of the UK, covering over 250,000 miles on on horseback and preaching over 40,000 sermons as he sought to share Jesus.
It is clear: the past was not a Christian utopia, but as tough then as it is now, yet that didn’t hold back Wesley and others from faithfully preaching the gospel. And I’m thankful that they did: it’s because of that Great Chain of Witnesses which stretches down through the centuries that you and I eventually heard the gospel ourselves.
Fourth, it’s helpful to remember that the West is highly unusual. The secularism that we see in places like the UK, Europe, and North America are a cultural blip both historically and geographical. In most parts of the world today, religion is growing—humanity is becoming more not less religious and worldwide, atheism is in decline. According to the latest research from the well-respected Pew Research Centre, by 2060 the number of people identifying as atheists or agnostics will have declined to 12% (from 16% today).[8] And those patterns are increasingly being reflected in the UK through factors like immigration. Many of the largest churches in cities like London are now immigrant churches—and there’s a beautiful sign of God’s long-term provision in the way that those immigrant churches are now helping to re-evangelise the nation that evangelised them through the missionary movements of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Fifth, remember that the UK and the West are not Christendom. Sometimes we can have such a myopic view of culture and history that we begin to assume that God’s plans and purposes for his Kingdom have the UK, or the US, or the West at their centre. And no wonder we then get distressed when those countries undergo seismic cultural shifts.
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So in the end, the way of wisdom is to avoid strife whenever possible. Beware of hot tempers, quarrelsome behaviors, insolent attitudes, and backbiting tongues. ‌This really feels like death, doesn’t it, to avoid strife, when the world shouts that we’re cowards unless we defend our own honor? Yet to fight like a Christian means avoiding the fight whenever possible.

Defining Strife
By “conflict,” I’m referring not to everyday disagreements, but to the sort of disagreements that look like knock-down, drag-em-out fights, that turn people into enemies of one another. The book of Proverbs refers to such situations as “strife.”
These are situations with neighbors or coworkers who find every opportunity to ridicule your Christian faith and try to make you angry so you slip up. Or classmates who act respectfully in public, but in private their mouths pour forth repulsive profanity and epithets in your direction. Or extended family members who point out your every flaw, claim they know you but they really don’t, and wield their expectations and gossip like hot pokers to manipulate you into doing what they want.
Responses to Strife
Sometimes Christians think God wants them to become punching bags. And at other times, perhaps in rejection of the punching-bag approach, Christians harden themselves to the point of arrogance and condescension toward their opponents.
But what does it mean to fight like a Christian in situations of strife?
Make no mistake: Enemies are real, and God wants his people not to fall before enemies but to overcome them. And the way we fight is what makes the difference.
What God Deems Honorable
Sometimes we get this crazy idea that protecting one’s honor means not turning aside from a threat or a fight. And to back down from a fight is cowardly.
But such notions are contrary to the Lord’s definition of honor. They are nothing but schoolyard foolishness.
It is an honor for a man to keep aloof from strife, but every fool will be quarreling.
Proverbs 20:3
The Lord values and honors the person mature enough to keep aloof from strife. Those who enjoy, initiate, or perpetuate quarrels are fools. They’re after their own self-respect and self-image, and are therefore to be avoided whenever possible. Even if it feels like you are giving up quite a bit, or suffering in the shadow of death, to do so.
The Time and Place to Fight
Now there is a time and place for protecting the innocent and standing up for the rights of the oppressed.
If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small. Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter. If you say, “Behold, we did not know this,” does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who keeps watch over your soul know it, and will he not repay man according to his work?
Proverbs 24:10-12
So the Lord certainly calls his people to fight at the right time and for the right reasons: When the innocent or naive are under threat. When the good and safety of others is at stake.
But not merely to defend one’s own honor.
So it is wise to be aware of those situations when strife is likely to break out, so that, whenever possible, you can avoid them. And when are those times?
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The hypocrite’s trust is ultimately in himself. He’s looking the part and playing the part, but it’s not real. There’s no communion. There’s no desperation. No brokenness, no humility, no hunger and thirst. Most importantly, there’s no grateful hope pulling him towards Christ. Christians are asked to “examine themselves” at the Lord’s Supper. That examination often (and appropriately) brings up feelings of unworthiness, grief, and self-doubt. But still, there’s that hope that pulls you toward Christ.

Just before Jesus’ institution of the Lord’s Supper, he predicted that one of his disciples would betray him. All the disciples, Judas included, responded with a heart-searching question: “Is it I?” (Matt. 26:22, 25). For most of the disciples, it was a moment of self-doubt; for Judas, it was blatant hypocrisy.[1] The difference becomes a very important lesson for self-examination, especially in the context of the Lord’s Supper.
Have you ever considered why the NT emphasizes Judas’s betrayal as the context of the Lord’s Supper? The Apostle Paul writes, “The Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread…” (1 Cor. 11:23). All three Synoptic Gospels emphasize and juxtapose Jesus’ institution of the Lord’s Supper with the betrayal of Judas. Why?
Two reasons come to mind. This juxtaposition highlights Jesus’ love and faithfulness all the more.[2] But in addition, it highlights the need for self-examination, humility, and repentance when it comes to the Lord’s Supper. Judas’ betrayal reveals the possibility of hypocrisy, eating the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner (see 1 Cor. 11:27).
Consider the difference between the disciples’ question, “Is it I, Lord?”, and Judas’s question, “Is it I, Rabbi?” (see Matt. 26:22,25). There might be a suggestive difference in the titles used, but the questions are almost exactly the same. Yet they obviously came from very different places—and that difference is immensely revealing.
Consider that the disciples’ question came from a place of self-doubt, grief, and concern…for Jesus! They were struck (at least momentarily) by an acute awareness of their own fragility and weakness. Notice that none of them were pointing fingers at any of the others. They had no reason to suspect anyone else. But each doubted himself. They were “extremely distressed” (λυπούμενοι σφόδρα) at the thought of betraying him, and they didn’t trust themselves.
That’s the heart of a real Christian. Judas’ question, by contrast, came from a very different place.
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