The right use of authority or power can make people glad. In our age, however, power is often immediately viewed with skepticism or outright disdain.

Of course, some level of skepticism isn’t completely unwarranted given the abuses of power in the world. These abuses have their roots all the way back in the garden, where we find that first misuse of power. In Genesis, God made Adam and Eve vice-regents over creation, but they failed to use their power in God-honoring ways. Instead, they took (an exercise of their power) what they never should have taken. The world has been suffering for their abuses ever since (Romans 8:20).

Today, when we scroll through headlines, we read plenty of stories of executives, politicians, and even pastors who have leveraged their positions in selfish and unethical ways. As a result, many people tend to view anyone who has power or authority with suspicion.

It’s absolutely necessary to identify, challenge, and rebuke sinful leadership. It ensures that people are cared for and God is honored. While many have rightly lamented abuses of power and authority, though, I do not see a corresponding celebration of godly displays of power and authority. If we want to cultivate healthy families, churches, and communities, we need more than negative reactions to bad leadership; we need a positive vision and good examples.

‘Happy Are Your Men’

In 1 Kings 10, the queen of Sheba, having “heard of the fame of Solomon concerning the name of the Lord” (1 Kings 10:1), wanted to see for herself whether these reports about Solomon were true. The queen poses hard questions to Solomon, and his answers take her breath away. She says,

The report was true that I heard in my own land of your words and of your wisdom, but I did not believe the reports until I came and my own eyes had seen it. And behold, the half was not told me. Your wisdom and prosperity surpass the report that I heard. (1 Kings 10:6–7)

Now hear what she says next: “Happy are your men! Happy are your servants, who continually stand before you and hear your wisdom” (1 Kings 10:8). The queen not only observes the shrewd leadership of Solomon, but also and extols the happiness of his people. The result of living under the wise rule of Solomon is gladness.

This kind of flourishing wasn’t limited to Solomon’s kingdom, but happens wherever godly leaders lead well: “When one rules justly over men, ruling in the fear of God, he dawns on them like the morning light, like the sun shining forth on a cloudless morning, like rain that makes grass to sprout from the earth” (2 Samuel 23:3–4).

Power That Makes You Glad

Have we been so busy lamenting the abuse of leadership that we’ve forgotten the value of leadership? Authority and power in and of themselves are good. Indeed, power rightly wielded is a pathway to joy. It might be helpful, then, to paint a positive picture of wise and good uses of authority. By casting some specific dimensions of such leadership, I want to help leaders lead in joy-producing ways and thus provide examples that are worthy of commending and imitating.

1. Humility

Leaders who make people glad do not think too highly or too often of themselves (Philippians 2:2–3). That is, they are lowly people who live among the people instead of hiding behind their privileges. Good leaders realize that God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6). This does not mean leaders are timid or unsure of themselves. Instead, it means that they are aware of their weaknesses (2 Corinthians 12:9), depend on Jesus (John 15:5), and consistently lean toward others.

One other note to strike: humble leaders link arms with those around them. That is, good leaders know they are part of team; they know how to listen, integrate others’ wisdom, and check for blind spots as they attempt to wisely navigate complex situations. Rather than going off by themselves to make decisions, humble leaders know how to work with others to pursue collective wisdom as they move forward. They are not the type of people who act as lone rangers from a foolish sense of self-sufficiency.

2. Servanthood

The greatest leader to ever walk the earth came to serve, not to be served (Matthew 20:28). In the Gospels, Jesus serves his people at every turn. He provides wine when it runs out at a wedding, he multiplies bread and fish when there isn’t enough to go around, and brings healing to the sick and broken. Most importantly, Jesus serves his people by going to the cross “to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:28). The King of the kingdom is a servant-king. In fact, Jesus tells us, “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all” (Mark 10:43–44). This kind of service does not abdicate its call to lead to appease unholy grumbling, but it does employ authority for the genuine good of others. And when that kind of holy servanthood begins with the leaders, it comes to mark the entire community of God’s people as we “through love serve one another” (Galatians 5:13).

3. Courage

Good leaders are courageous. When God calls Joshua to lead his people into the promised land, he tells him three times in four verses to “be strong and courageous” (Joshua 1:6, 7, 9). The idea of courage does not mean a total lack of fear. Instead, the courageous leader may have bouts with fear, but he does what needs to be done despite the fear. I remember standing between my sons and a fierce dog once. I felt some level of fear, but because I loved my boys, I overcame that fear and stood my ground.

At times, courageous leaders will have to make hard and unpopular decisions. When faced with difficult decisions, though fear may rear its head, the courageous leader presses on and fulfills his God-given calling.

4. Sober-Mindedness

Joe Rigney has described sober-mindedness as clarity of mind, steadiness of soul, and readiness to act. This description of sober-mindedness intersects some with the last point. Courageous leaders are ready to lead. Sober-mindedness adds the components of clarity of mind and steadiness of soul. When people are led by someone who sees the issues clearly and endures opposition with resilience, they themselves are better prepared to face the challenges of the day. Sober-mindedness is a picture of a man seated comfortably in his chair, facing an onslaught of criticism for his decisions or challenges to his ideas, and instead of thrusting himself forward, he remains calm and self-controlled. He knows who — and whose — he is. And he’s ready to act. After all, God calls leaders to lead.

If you ever have the chance to live through an active combat situation (I have), you’ll be glad for leaders who think clearly, remain steady, and courageously act in the moment.

5. Faithfulness

One of the greatest needs in our world today are leaders who are simply faithful. They are not trying to make themselves famous or lead the next revolution. Instead, they simply want to come to the end and hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master” (Matthew 25:23).

Someone once described a faithful friend at my church as having a “high say/do ratio.” In other words, if he says he’ll do something, you can be sure he’ll follow through. People will be happier when leaders consistently do what they say they’ll do.

6. Joy

Lastly, truly good leadership is marked by joy. I do not mean these leaders are chipper or superficially happy. They know how to weep when people weep, make tough decisions when they need to make tough decisions, and yet also laugh and smile when the world seems to be falling apart, because they know who has the whole world in his hands. Perhaps we could say these are seriously joyful leaders.

Good leaders know the world is broken, but they have a joy in Jesus that is deep and immovable. No matter what comes their way, they know that their greatest problem has been solved by Christ and that their future with Jesus is a fixed reality. And the joy of a leader very often gives rise to joy in his people.

This is what the world needs: leaders who are humble, courageous servants, are able to graciously receive criticism, maintain a sober mind, and are faithful and joyful to the end. If you are privileged to benefit from this type of leader, one who wields power in a way that makes people glad, then celebrate that reality as a gift from God. And pray that God would multiply such leaders in the days ahead.

The ache comes unexpected. The random sight of a yellow door turns a handle in your memory. A restaurant song plays a tune that returns you to former times. The passing smell of a backyard meal takes you to a table long ago. For a few moments, you grow quiet and thoughtful — remembering, reliving, perhaps reaching for something once loved, now lost.

We name it nostalgia. The wistful backward glance. The photo album of the mind. The string that tugs the heart from years gone by. The yearning to find a bridge across the gap of canyon time.

For many, nostalgia comes as infrequently as a stranger at the door, and leaves just as quickly. But others know the ache more intimately. Perhaps because they have lost more than most, perhaps because they have a sentimental bent, perhaps because their present life holds little pleasure, the past lives vividly before them. Nostalgia is no stranger.

Backward glances, even backward longings, have their good purposes in the lives of God’s children. If we allow it, nostalgia itself can become a prophet of the Lord. But nostalgia can also take a darker turn, can tell a sadder tale. As the winds of memory blow from yesterday to today, they can carry a whisper barely heard but deeply felt: “Your best days are behind you.”

Best Days Behind

The Greeks of old spoke of a Golden Age, a lost time of peace and prosperity, happiness and wholeness. Many of us, without pretending the past was perfect, likewise discern a golden glow in former days. The walls of our heart, if not of our home, hold pictures of better times, of youthful laughter and young romance, of beginning ambitions and a body less broken. Once, we lived in a land without shadow, or at least without these shadows.

We walk today in the Age of Bronze, it seems, or Iron. The pages of the present lie rough and plain; the golden days are gone. Even for those with happy lives, today may seem more sorrowful than yesterday. Amid present joys, many can still hear the soft sounds of children grown, of loves lost, of dreams that never took flight. Autumn comes to every life. The leaves fall from our happiest days.

And the future? We recite by creed “the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting,” but for many the light of such days shines dimly. The eye of memory often sees clearer than the eye of faith. Heaven will be a happy place, no doubt, and Jesus’s face a sight to cure all sorrow. But today, what was weighs more heavily than what will be.

So speaks nostalgia’s bleaker voice. But in the midst of such remembrances, we may hear another speak: “Say not, ‘Why were the former days better than these?’ For it is not from wisdom that you ask this” (Ecclesiastes 7:10). The pangs of nostalgia can lead us into folly if we let them. They can force past, present, and future into a familiar story often told but largely untrue. “Your best days are behind you,” we may hear nostalgia say. But wisdom says otherwise.

Ungild the Past

When the wise look backward, they do indeed see good days — even glorious days. To David, the past held the “wondrous deeds” of God, far “more than can be told” (Psalm 40:5). Past years are chapters in God’s own book (Psalm 139:16), and God knows how to write good stories. And yet, for all the wonders of yesterday, the past is not always what we remember.

Human memory does not tell objective history, though we often assume otherwise. Like even the best historians, it selects and emphasizes — and like even of the worst, it distorts and embellishes. Consider, for example, what the wilderness-wandering Israelites remembered of their stay in Egypt:

Oh that we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt that cost nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic. But now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at. (Numbers 11:4–6)

O dear and dangerous memory: faithful reporter and seditious scribe, beloved witness and bold perjurer! Egypt, the house of slavery; Egypt, the furnace of Pharaoh; Egypt, the land of forced labor — now Egypt, the oasis of the Lord? The mind, when distressed, can remember the melons and forget the misery.

Our own distortions may be less extreme. But the Preacher’s warning not to glorify the past (Ecclesiastes 7:10) suggests that we too can gild the pages of former days. Especially when the present feels unpleasant, we can fail to remember the more painful parts of the past. Then, as now, we dealt with apathy and discontent. Yesterday, as today, we carried wounds. The past indeed holds a Golden Age, but that garden was lost long before our lifetime.

Remember, dear saint, that even the happiest past grew not only flowers but thorns. If we could travel backward, we would indeed find many good gifts — perhaps even more than we now have — but we would not find all that we are looking for. Nostalgia’s longing leads us elsewhere.

Undim the Present

If the past is not always what we remember, we may then ask whether the present is more than we perceive. Might the backward glance, indulged too often, make us blind to present blessings?

However dim our days may seem when compared to the past, we still live beneath “the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17). Every past glory was a gift from his own hand, and though many years have perhaps rolled on, that hand remains open and unchanged. His gifts may differ between then and now, but he has not stopped giving.

Look around. Pause and consider. Stand like Elisha’s servant and ask for eyes to see (2 Kings 6:16–17). However bitter your cup, does it not hold some sweetness as well? Has God not surrounded your sorrows with comforts, or filled ordinary days with lawful pleasures, or given you some sphere of usefulness for Christ, however small? Has he not given you his words and his church — a song in the night and a choir of voices?

But more than that, more than all of God’s gifts combined and multiplied, has he not given you himself? If you find yourself in a wilderness, has not the pillar of fire and cloud gone with you? “Behold, I am with you always,” says our Lord (Matthew 28:20). Does not his always include today as well as yesterday?

The pastor John Newton once wrote to a woman recently widowed, “Though every stream must fail, the fountain is still full and still flowing. All the comfort you ever received in your dear friend was from the Lord, who is abundantly able to comfort you still” (Letters of John Newton, 225). In Christ, our comfort comes not mainly from a where or a when, but from a who. And though time has changed life, has changed us, it has not changed him. The eternal God is still our dwelling place, and underneath remain the everlasting arms (Deuteronomy 33:27).

Unveil the Future

So then, a golden thread connects our past and our present. And if we continue to follow this thread, we will find ourselves facing not backward, but forward — looking now not for a lost Eden, but for the New Jerusalem.

Here lies the secret of holy nostalgia. If we heed the whisper that our best days lie behind us, if we allow a gilded past to dim the present and abolish the future, then nostalgia will prove a persecutor, imprisoning our joy. But if we follow the longing to the land that lies not behind but beyond, nostalgia will turn prophet and apostle, a preacher of the coming glory.

David Gibson writes, “Wise people who understand how God has made us to long for him and for heaven don’t look backward when they get nostalgic. They allow the feeling to point forward. They look up to heaven and to home” (Living Life Backward, 103). We traced nostalgia’s faded letters and thought they read here, but all the while they were telling us of heaven.

Past gifts, however wonderful, were only a taste, a whisper, a window, a trail — “the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited,” as C.S. Lewis puts it (The Weight of Glory, 31). They were firstfruits promising a harvest, olive branches heralding a new earth, the grapes of Canaan bidding us to look beyond the Jordan of death to the land of our inheritance.

As God once said to his backward-looking people, “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old” (Isaiah 43:18). Behold, the God of wonders does a new thing, dawns a new day. From the grave he has “brought life and immortality to light” (2 Timothy 1:10), and now he waits to receive us. Soon and very soon, we will dwell in a world where sadness cannot live (Revelation 21:4). Soon and very soon, we will see the Person behind all our past joys (Revelation 22:4).

Our past may hold the happiest life this world has ever seen. But compared to the future God holds for his people, even that past becomes shadow and mist, broken tune and burnt image. So, when nostalgia visits, by all means ache and long, crave and thirst, pine and yearn — but not for the past. Rather, hunger for heaven and for home.

In Christ, our best days always and forever lie ahead.

Audio Transcript

Two weeks back, we looked at missions and personal evangelism and the goal of it all. Why did Paul give his life to spreading the gospel? And we got the answer: Paul was all about winning. He mentions the word win five times in four verses in 1 Corinthians 9:19–22. That was our focus in APJ 1898.

It’s pretty easy to speak of evangelism in the abstract like that. And it’s far more challenging to actually do evangelism. So today I want to encourage you with a story. This is the story of one man’s attempt to win another man to Christ — a story of two neighbors. And it’s a story that will challenge us to consider the all-important question behind our evangelism: What is Jesus worth to me? Your answer to that question becomes your sharable testimony. It’s what you offer others as you seek to win them to Christ.

When it comes to personal evangelism, I’m encouraged by gritty and honest stories of doubt and hesitation and overcoming fears. And that’s what we get today, the story of one man, Pastor John, seeking to win his next-door neighbor to Christ (a man named Allen) in a very rare, extended story told by Pastor John in 1982, over forty years ago. Here it is.

I have a neighbor named Allen, and he’s a single man in his forties, I would guess. When Noël and I moved into the neighborhood over here, I met him probably on the first or second day. And in that conversation, I asked if he went to church anywhere, and he said no. And my response to that was, “Well, you’re sure welcome to come to Bethlehem anytime” — he knew I was the pastor there because I had told him that — and I dropped it.

Now the reason I dropped it there — I mean, I assume when somebody says they don’t go to church anywhere that they probably don’t know Christ, because Christ moves his people into fellowship — the reason I didn’t follow up on that, though I suspected he needed the Lord very much, is not because I had a very clear and wise strategy for reaching him in the next few weeks. It’s because I was inept, and my faith was not vital, and Christ was not very precious to me at that moment, communicating to me a love for this man.

Prayer and a Book

Now, a year goes by. During the year, from the summer of ’80 to the summer of ’81, I saw him I don’t know how many times, but never in any extended conversation — just passing along the way. “Hi, Allen.” “Hi, John.” And that was it, pretty much, even though he lives right next door.

And during the year, I could hardly ever go to prayer without him coming to mind. I would go to God feeling low sometimes and say, “God, I want power. I want blessing on my life. Is there anything standing between me and you? Is there . . . ?” Allen, Allen, Allen, every time. I felt so guilty. And what happened was that I began to pray very fervently, and I asked the Lord to give me courage, and most of all love — that I’d be authentic, really care, so that when I spoke it was real.

And then the Lord began, very patiently, to move me step by step. Here was step number one. He caused me in the spring to start carrying this little booklet around, Becoming a Christian by John Stott. I’d carry it in this pocket right here every day.

And I vowed to the Lord, “Next time I see Allen, I’m going to talk to him about his faith. I’m going to tell him, ‘Allen, I care about you. And this book has been a help to me, and maybe you could read it and we could talk about it.’” That was my text. The Lord laid that on my heart.

Okay. The summer passes all the way through to July, end of July, and it’s time to go on vacation. Never seen him. I hadn’t seen him for three months. I’d been carrying this thing the whole time. It’s all shabby. So I got a new one out and put it in my pocket.

Then I think it was about the day before vacation, just before August, and I had to get some grading done on the side of the house, and I had to get his permission because it was going to go over into his yard, I thought. And I told him about the grading. “Is that okay?” “Oh sure.”

“Allen,” I said, “you remember last time we talked? You said you didn’t go to church anywhere, and I assume that means you don’t have much interest in Jesus either. And you probably know that I count him as my Lord, and I’m really concerned when people don’t care about Jesus. I’ve been carrying this book around for three months in hopes to give it to you, so that maybe we could talk about what it means to trust Christ. Would you mind reading it?” “Sure, I’ll read it.”

He was going to the Boundary Waters the next day. He took it. He was very courteous, thanked me for it. And that was the last I saw of him till Christmas — but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Face to Face

After that, I was in constant prayer about how I should follow up on this. If you really care about somebody, you don’t stick them with literature and run away. “What do I do next, Lord? What’s the next move?”

One Monday morning in the fall, I was praying back here in my study, and I couldn’t get off my knees until I made a vow to the Lord. And what I vowed was this: I’ll call him tonight. Then I got up, and I told these interns that afternoon, “Guys, I’m going to call him tonight, and I’m going to ask him if we could talk about the book.” And they prayed for me.

At 7:30 I called him, and he wasn’t home. I called him again. He wasn’t home. He didn’t come home all night. I felt good. I hadn’t done that for a long time, and that made me feel good that at least I’d done that. Now, I didn’t feel right to call him the next night, because the Lord started to lay on me another thing: Forget the phone. Let’s have a face to face. Go. Jesus went. Go. Quit this intermediate stuff and go, if you care.

Now, the next thing that happened was this Christmas open house we had. That was at the end of November, and he came. That’s the first time I’d seen him since July. But the living room was just full of people. We sat on the floor together. He felt so good to be there. He’s just natural. And I said, “This is great. He’s not as scared of me, and that’s good.”

But I didn’t ask him about the book there because there were so many people around. I don’t know whether I should have or not, but I didn’t. And he left, and I felt good that he had felt free to come. And I felt like now I know he’s not afraid of me, and so we can be natural with each other.

In This Together

And then I did something that I recommend to everybody. Monday, December 14, I took a retreat day. For five hours, I prayed and read the Bible, and the Lord laid on me a great burden for last week’s sermon and this week’s sermon. And I suspected very strongly I couldn’t preach it if I didn’t follow through with Allen. That’s pressure for a preacher.

The fruitlessness of our witness at Bethlehem really weighed on me, and I knew the problem was as much with me as with any of you. And therefore, as a leader and a pastor, I knew some changes had to be made in me. Sure, I witness every Sunday from this pulpit. And you may think, “Oh Piper, he’s so fortunate. He can just declare the word all the time and feel great.”

And I talk to people about the Lord in my study every time they come there. I hardly let anybody get out without the gospel. That’s easy. But when it comes to going to the people in the world where they are, like Jesus did, I am as hesitant as any of you. So don’t think any differently. We’re all in it together.

“I said to myself, ‘I have to quit denying the gospel through silence.’”

I knew something had to give in me. Something had to snap. Some long, ingrained fears had to be overcome if I was going to be any authentic minister, if I was going to keep going as pastor. I said to myself, “I have to quit denying the gospel through silence.” If I’m going to stand in this pulpit and say to you, “Love your neighbor, love your neighbor, love your neighbor,” I had to quit contradicting that command by my own neglect.

So, December 23 rolled around. Early before breakfast, I was praying downstairs, and the Lord did something he hasn’t done forever, in one sense, to me. I was wrestling, wanting the resolve, yet not wanting the resolve, to get up off my knees and go. And the Lord would not let me up until I vowed to do it that night.

How Much Is Jesus Worth?

Now, besides eighteen months of prayer and faltering and little baby steps, the thing that brought me to that point was this question: How much is Jesus worth? And I took one of these big yellow sheets of paper, and I laid it beside me on the couch where I was kneeling. And I wrote for myself, “How much is Jesus worth?” at the top of the page.

And then here’s what I wrote in answer: “Jesus, I would rather have you as my Savior and leader than keep my health, have my sons and wife, or preserve my own life. You are more valuable to me than all I own, all the friendships I cherish, all the pastimes I enjoy, and all my plans for the future.”

And then I wrote, “Why? Why is he so valuable?” And I wrote three answers. First, “Jesus, I could have no peace with God without you. My conscience declares to me there is a God, and I am an accountable sinner. And without your death on the cross, Jesus, I would live daily in the misery of guilt.” Second, “Jesus, without you, my life would be like a ship without a rudder in a sea of time, with no destination at all. I want meaning and significance to my life. And I know if the Bible’s true, only you can give that meaning, because you give meaning to the whole universe.” And then third, I wrote, “Without you, Jesus, eternity and death would be fearsome to me. But God sent you into the world, so loving me that if I just believe on you, I need not perish, but have eternal life.” And I put a text with each one of those reasons for why he is so valuable to me.

And I jumped up off the floor, and I said, “I’m going to read that to Allen today.” And I went over and typed it on a piece of paper so I could give it to him. Before I left the room, I asked the Lord for a promise. “I need a promise, Lord, because I’m going to chicken out today. I’m going to chicken out if you don’t give me a promise.” And you know what he gave me? Chariots of Fire the movie, and the text “He who honors me, I will honor” (see 1 Samuel 2:30). And I looked up another one: “If anyone serves me,” Jesus said, “the Father will honor him” (John 12:26). And I just paraphrased that for myself. I said, “Okay, if that’s true, then it means, ‘He who aims in love to testify of my value, I will honor.’”

“And the Lord opened my eyes to see there is nothing in the world more valuable than to be honored by God.”

And the Lord opened my eyes to see that there is nothing in the world more valuable than to be honored by God. And I fought the battle all day with that text, and it was great. At noontime, I went to Logos Bookstore and bought a New Testament and Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. And I wrote a message of hope and a prayer in each one of those. And I wrapped them up as a Christmas present.

Christmas Present

That night, we had guests for supper, and after supper, I told them what I was going to do and asked them if they would pray for me while I go next door. And we prayed, and I called him. “Hello, Allen, this is John Piper, your neighbor. I’ve got a Christmas present for you. Can I bring it over?” “Sure.”

He’s home. Great. Victory number one. And I go over and knock on his door, and he lets me in. We stand there in the living room, and the television is on. And I say, “I’ve got a couple of books here I wanted to give you for Christmas. And there’s something else I want to say too. Is it okay?” “Sure.”

I said, “You know from our conversations that Jesus is really important to me, and I know that you don’t believe in him the way I do. And I’ve been praying for you every day for almost a year. And I just felt this morning I had to come tell you why Jesus is so valuable to me because I’d like, like crazy, for you to believe in him too.”

And I took out this piece of paper, and I was going to read it, but the television was on right there beside me. You just can’t imagine the atmosphere. It was so rotten for sharing something so precious. So instead of reading it, I just held it there. I said, “I wrote these down. I’ll leave them with you.” And I paraphrased them. I said, “This is how important he is to me,” and I said, “These are the reasons.” I gave them those three reasons in my own words.

And then I said, “Allen, have you ever desired that kind of a relationship? Have you ever wanted to know Jesus like that?” And he said, “Turn off the television and sit down.” That’s great. And we sat down on the couch and talked. And among the things that we said, he said, “I read that book in the Boundary Waters, and I heard some Christians singing a song in the Boundary Waters.”

And I said, “That might be kind of nice to have faith like that.” And I said, “What hinders? What’s the hindrance? Is it what it would cost? Lifestyle? Or is it intellectual problems?” And he said, “Yeah, the latter.”

And I said, “Well, one of these books, C.S. Lewis, was a tremendous help to me when I was a freshman in college, overcoming lots of those hindrances. And I’d love to talk with you about that book and about those problems.” And he said, “Yeah, that would be great. Could we talk again?” “Sure.” And he thanked me for my concern.

Now, that’s where the story stands today. And I pray for him every day. Now that’s the first time I ever did that in my life. Go to a neighbor. I’ve talked to other people about the Lord. A neighbor: the hardest person to witness to and go into his house and say, “I love Jesus. It’s so important to believe in Jesus. Can I tell you why it’s important?” I did it, and I would do some things very differently. Retrospect is always better. You learn by experience.

Three Lessons for Evangelism

Now here are the lessons for us from that story.

1. God is patient. Don’t give up on God. He’s patient. Eighteen months of guilty feelings, and he did not abandon me.

2. If you continue in prayer — this is all you’ve got to do, I promise. If you will not quit praying, the Lord will do the rest. That’s all. He’ll get you one way or the other. All you need to do is pray. What we do is we feel so guilty every time the name comes to mind, we put it out. We blank it out. But if you don’t blank it out, and you keep praying, He’ll do the rest. He’ll make the way.

3. If you do what I did — take a piece of paper and write out, “How much is Jesus worth?” and then put that in your own words, and then say why, write why — there’s your testimony, and it’s yours. It’s authentic. It doesn’t have to come from any book. And you’ll have a testimony, and you’ll have the prayer support. And our church will be on the way to harvest in 1982.