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The life and death of our campus evangelism project

When someone says, “Hey, we should do some outreach in our own community,” it’s an awkward situation since it’s so very hard to tell whether they are just saying the right, polite thing, or whether they really mean it.

At a Bible study some years ago the man making this particular statement did indeed mean it. Someone else in the group then went a step further and described a small campus outreach project they’d seen a Christian Reformed evangelist do. It was really simple. You set up an information table on campus on a regular basis, and from the contacts you make you set up a Bible study.

People became enthused, and after a couple of meetings a small group of Canadian Reformed University of Alberta students was organized and recruiting their fellow students. The recruiters were trying to get people to man the information table on campus in the university’s mall in teams of two, for one hour a piece.

The response was amazingly enthusiastic on the part of the students, and so the following term a second information table was set up in the Student Union Building. The Bible study generally did well, attracting one or two people from the general campus population that didn’t know these Canadian Reformed students. A couple of them even came to church for a while.

Areopa-what?

The project needed a name. In Acts 17 Paul goes to a place of learning in Athens called the Areopagus to explain his God to all who wanted to who wanted to hear, and so the campus outreach effort was dubbed “The Areopagus Project.” While it was a clever name, it was sometimes confusing. When members of other Christian groups on campus asked about our efforts, they didn’t understand why we chose the name “Areopagus.” When we called the Bible supplier for a new case of Bibles to be sent to “The Areopagus Project,” she could hardly pronounce, let alone spell the name.

Even so, somehow it stuck.

The project was, in a way, kind of amazing. It was organized, and run by students. There was no paid missionary, campus outreach worker, or other ministerial help to backstop our efforts. It was just average students enthused about spreading the gospel.

However, we soon realized we needed some help so we took advantage of a rare opportunity. Edmonton was one of the few places in the world where our own Canadian Reformed denomination had a denominational “sister church” in the same city. We brought in Rev. Tom Reid and Dr. Peter Heaton, minister and elder of the local Free Church of Scotland congregation to give us advice and additional manpower. In a very practical way, members from the two denominations cooperated in campus outreach. Without synodical committees or letters shuttling back and forth, we experienced a practical, communion of saints with Christians from a different background. Reformed and Presbyterian Calvinists learned to cooperate despite having different histories, songbooks and traditions.

Hard questions

Though a lot of neat things happened, it wasn’t all easy. When people stopped by our information table to talk, they asked tough questions. “Does God hate homosexuals?” “My best friend doesn’t believe in God, is she going to hell?” “Since there is no God, why do you waste your time worshipping him?”

In a comical way, there was one question that summarized people’s attitudes. Noticing the banner on our table, with a cross and the word “Reformed,” one woman asked, “Should I be offended by that?” Though she was genuinely puzzled, and we couldn’t help but smile, there was something to what she said. The truth of the gospel is offensive to those who don’t believe because it challenges everything they stand for. By sitting at that table and honestly trying to answer people’s difficult questions, we learned that the Bible does offend people, and that what we believe is radically different from what most people believe.

Any Christian who ever steps onto a secular university campus soon learns that at least every once in a while his faith will be challenged. He will have to learn to stand up for his Father. In that way, The Areopagus Project was not so unusual. A Christian is always somewhat visible at a university, and this just made us more visible. By being visible, it meant that, in a small way, we did learn to stand up for God. We lost a little bit of the nervousness and the fear that comes from being the only one in a crowd who’s obviously different from the rest.

Measuring success

There were unexpected results from The Areopagus Project. Members of the three congregations involved got to know each other much, much better. In fact, they got to know each so much better after sitting at the table together, that two of them got married. Another member of our group married a Bible study participant who was an ESL student from Korea, and a member of a sister church out there. Friendships between Canadian Reformed and Free Church members persisted. Most of them started at the Areopagus, but continued into regular, everyday life.

These sorts of projects are usually measured in terms of “souls saved.” Honestly, we couldn’t tell you, for certain, of a single soul that was saved as a result of our work. So was it worth it? Were the hours spent hunting down pamphlets, manning information tables, making phone calls to set up schedules, and helping out at Bibles studies productively spent? Without a doubt, yes they were.

We put Bibles in the hands of 150 people who might never have seen them otherwise. We challenged hundreds of people to think about their beliefs and presuppositions, and we learned a little bit about defending our own beliefs. We can’t say that we saw the plants grow up, but we certainly sowed the seeds, and God may cause them to grow in the years to come.

All good things…

The students who started The Areopagus Project graduated and many moved away. And without them, the work didn’t continue.

While that’s kind of sad, there are now former students and “graduates” of The Areopagus Project who know that evangelism isn’t the sole duty of missionaries but can and should be carried out by average church members. In a small way they’ve started to see the possibilities. While the death of The Areopagus Project may close one door to bringing the gospel to our community, the fact that so many university students worked in this project will undoubtedly open others.

This article was first published in the September 1999 issue under the title “The life and death of the Areopagus Project.”

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Evangelism

It's necessary: use words!

I hadn’t expected to meet a witch on the bus, what with their alternative form of transportation. Yet there she was, not a wart to be seen, sitting across the aisle. She had started the ride buried in a book, but her head came up when my friend and I discussed a particular point of theology in a slightly louder than normal fashion. This friend was on his way to becoming a minister, and theological topics always had the effect of cranking up his volume. I suspected that this was a conscious decision, rather than just an outburst of enthusiasm, since he always talked about how Christians had to be more of a light to the world. And he was a light: a roaring, exploding bonfire of light that could not be ignored by anyone within earshot. Whether we were sitting in a steam room, or hanging out at a coffee house, or sitting on the bus, he provoked obviously unchristian people into talking with us. This time around it was the witch. A few minutes into the ride she interrupted us to ask us what religion we followed. My friend was happy to explain, and then asked her what church she went to. “Oh, I don’t go to a church,” she said, “I worship my personal goddess at home.” The way she explained it, witches (or Wiccans) sounded a lot like New Agers. They did try and cast the occasional spell, but only love spells, and the central tenet of their religion was a respect for all of nature. It was just mumbo jumbo, nothing shocking or new for us, until she started talking about her personal goddess. After listing all sorts of benefits that came from having a goddess on call, she admitted it was nothing but a fabrication. That admission left both me and my conversationally-endowed buddy at a loss for words; we just couldn’t understand how someone could knowingly choose a delusion over a real, caring, and powerful God. So we asked. They don't understand The question surprised her. “You guys have to understand,” she blurted, “You pray and that makes you feel better, right? So what’s the difference between what you do and what I do?” The basic fact she didn’t understand, the thing no one had told her before, was that we Christians serve the one real God. This woman had never heard that before. Her Wiccan experience with religion was an openly delusional one, so she, quite logically, assumed that all other religions were similarly based. I found her ignorance surprising, but since then I’ve found it isn’t unusual. In fact, I had a similar sort of encounter less than a month later. This time my friend and I were making our semi-regular pilgrimage to a display sponsored by our university’s pro-choice club. I always went to pick up as many free brochures as possible, which, once I was out of sight, I would gleefully destroy. It was a small thing – a very small thing – but I thought it was at least as good an approach as the one my friend tried time and time again. He always debated with the pro-choicers. But what was usually a waste of breath turned out a differently that day. After a heated five-minute exchange one of the young ladies at the table asked for clarification, “Do you mean you really, honestly think it’s a baby?” “Of course,” my friend replied, “Why else would we even care?” Well, that just didn’t fit with what she had been told, “I thought you religious types were just using this issue to try to control women.” Her friend nodded in agreement. They didn’t understand – they were utterly ignorant. Conclusion I’ve always wanted to believe that evangelism was as simple as living a good Christian life. I wanted to believe I didn’t actually have to talk about God as long as people could see His presence in my life. Actions are louder than words, right? The problem is, in this post-Christian age people don’t have the background – they don’t know the basics of Christianity – to understand our actions. A Christian who doesn’t work on Sunday is just a guy who gets the day off. No sex before marriage becomes the rational act of someone who’s scared of sexually transmitted diseases. Action against abortion is understood as a power grab against women, and even prayer can be explained away as nothing more than a type of meditation or some psychological self-talk exercise. Actions only speak louder than words when the reasons for the actions are understood. And the world doesn’t have a clue anymore. So, as John MacArthur once put it, we need to “Preach the Gospel and always use words.” The world doesn’t understand so we all have to start talking and explaining. If you already are, you may have to start talking a little louder. And if you’re uncomfortable with cranking up the volume maybe you can just hang out with a conversationally-endowed buddy who isn’t. A version of this article first appear in the January 1999 issue under the title "Dumb, but not deaf"...


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