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Part 7 of 9
There Is More: Endgame
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We're in a series called There Is More: Endgame, where we're preaching verse by verse through the book of Acts. The events center around the Apostle Paul, and it's important to understand his trajectory.
Paul starts the book of Acts as a religious terrorist—think ISIS, think Hamas. He's literally traveling around killing people for being Christians. Then he meets Jesus, bends his knee to Jesus, and it gets on him, then it gets in him, then it changes him.
For the rest of Acts, Paul walks, rides, and sails somewhere between 10 and 12,000 miles, planting churches and telling everybody about Jesus primarily in Greece and Turkey. By the end of Acts, the man who started by killing Christians ends up being killed and beheaded in Rome for being a Christian and testifying to Jesus Christ.
In Acts 25 and 26, Paul stands courageously in front of three Roman political leaders: Felix, Festus, and Herod Agrippa II. But before we get there, we need to understand what led to this moment.
Paul gets arrested, and a group of Jewish assassins—probably the Sicarii, or "dagger assassins," like little Jewish ninjas—make a blood oath that none of them will eat or drink until Paul is dead. Everywhere the Apostle Paul went, he was attacked and opposed. Heads up: you've been lied to if you think becoming a Christian is the way to punch your ticket to a low-maintenance, hassle-free life where everybody loves you.
When you became a Christian, yes, you gained God as your heavenly Father. But the Bible says that when you were transferred from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light—from the kingdom of Satan to team Jesus—you gain God as your father, but you also gain Satan and hell as your enemy. The birthmark of a believer is a bullseye. You have to expect opposition because you're on team Jesus now.
Paul is rescued and taken to Caesarea Maritima, where he sits in a prison cell for two years. I'm sure Paul was thinking: God, couldn't I be doing something better? Why have you got me in this waiting season?
Here's what you need to know: With God, a waiting season is never a wasted season. While Paul thought he was in a diversion from his calling, it was actually during his imprisonment that he wrote the books of Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon. The season in Paul's life where he probably thought the most, "What a wasted season," ended up producing ministry that God has used in every single one of our lives for Christians for two millennia to bring us closer to Jesus.
Maybe you're in a waiting season right now. Maybe you're waiting for a baby, waiting for God to bring you Mr. Right, or waiting and praying for years for a prodigal son or daughter. God will redeem your season. He can turn it into something that matters. He can restore the years the locust have eaten.
Before we dive into Paul's example, I want to make a point about what we Christians often get wrong.
What we are awesome at—and I mean this—is fighting with people on the inside instead of reaching people on the outside. We're really good at theological arguments among ourselves. I collect church signs, and I've got one of my favorites about two churches in Ohio. One church put up a sign: "All dogs go to heaven." The Presbyterian church across the street corrected them: "Only humans go to heaven. Read the Bible."
Well, the Catholics fired back: "God loves all his creations, dogs included." The Presbyterians came back: "Dogs don't have souls. This is not open for debate." The Catholics: "Catholic dogs go to heaven. Presbyterian dogs can talk to their pastor."
And it kept escalating for weeks.
Here's my point: What we are awesome at is fighting with people on the inside instead of reaching people on the outside.
What you're going to see in Acts 25 and 26 is that everywhere the Apostle Paul went, he viewed himself as a spirit-filled ambassador of the kingdom of heaven. God making his appeal from heaven to people. This is Paul's most clear example of how to share your faith with somebody in a very practical way.
Before we go deeper, I need you to do something. Think of your "one more"—the one person closest to you but farthest from God. Get a name in your head right now. Throughout this entire sermon, I want you to keep that name in your head and think, "This is how I share Christ with that person."
What Paul does in Acts 25 and 26 is practical. I'm going to call it the ABC of sharing your faith.
Number one: A—assume people are interested.
Here's what keeps most people from sharing their faith: they look at people's exterior and think, Oh, they wouldn't be into what I got because of what I see on the outside. Maybe it's what they look like. Maybe it's their vibe—they seem standoffish or angry. Maybe they're really successful and happy, and you think, "Ah, they're not into this." Maybe it's their political beliefs. Maybe they're from Austin, and you think, "Ah, they wouldn't be into that."
But the Bible says that man looks at the outward appearance, but God works on the heart. You don't know what's going on in their heart. You don't know what that person's hurts are, what their unanswered or answered prayers are. You don't know where God might have visited them in dreams and visions to prepare them just for this encounter with you. You might be the only chance they will ever have to hear the gospel before they go to hell.
Paul does the opposite. Paul assumes everywhere he goes that people are interested. Here's what Paul does: He stands in front of Agrippa, and Agrippa says to Paul, "You have permission to speak for yourself." Paul motions with his hand and begins his defense.
King Agrippa, I consider myself fortunate to stand before you today.
In other words, I'm so glad we're talking. I'm assuming this is a big deal to you. Then he goes on:
Against all the accusations of the Jews, especially so because you are well acquainted with all the Jewish customs and controversies.
Now, I need to nerd out for a second about who Herod Agrippa II is, because it matters. When you read the Bible, you encounter multiple Herods, and it's easy to get confused. The guy Paul's talking to is Herod Agrippa II. Let me show you his family tree and why it's a big deal.
Herod the Great was Agrippa II's great-grandfather. He's mentioned in Matthew 2. This is the Herod who sends people to slaughter all the Jewish boys under the age of two in Jesus' hometown because he's trying to kill Jesus.
Herod Antipus was Agrippa II's great-uncle. He's mentioned in Luke 9. This is the Herod who beheads John the Baptist, cuts off his head, puts it on a silver platter, and gives it to his mistress.
Herod Agrippa I was Agrippa II's dad. He's mentioned in Acts 12. This is the Herod who beheads James the Apostle, arrests Peter, and tries to kill Peter.
Think about this: Paul is standing in front of this guy. Paul is on trial and can easily be sentenced to death. Paul knows—and Agrippa knows that Paul knows—that his great-grandfather tried to kill Jesus, his great-uncle killed John the Baptist, and his dad killed James and imprisoned Peter.
Paul has every reason to think this guy hates what I have to say. But Paul does the opposite and assumes that the Holy Spirit has gone ahead of him to open Agrippa's heart, and he's going to be interested.
And watch what happens: Agrippa says, "I would like to hear this man myself."
Paul was right.
Let me confess my sin here. What we usually do is look at people and assume the opposite based on what we see on the outside. Ah, they don't want what I got.
But I've learned that you need a go-to move. Let me give you mine—especially on airplanes, since you're traveling with someone for two hours.
I get three questions deep, and then I say, "Hey, man, I pray for you." Here's how it works:
Question one: "Hey, how you doing?"
Question two: "Okay. Tell me about that. What do you mean just okay?"
Now we're getting real. Let me give you a literal conversation from a plane two months ago:
Man, I've got to give both my sons news today. One good news, one bad news.
Question three: "Oh man, do you mind me asking what the bad news is you've got to deliver to your son?"
Now we're for real for real. After I get three questions deep, I just go—in a non-cringe way—"Hey man, what would you... I'm a person of faith. Would you mind if I pray for you, or I'll be praying for you?"
90% of the time they say yes, and 60% of the time it opens up to more conversations.
Here's a story. I'm on a Southwest flight years ago. I sit in the middle seat hoping nobody else will sit on either side. But this girl comes and sits where I didn't want her to sit. I look at her, and she's literally the exact stereotype of who you'd think would not want to talk to me. Her hair's a certain way, the whole vibe's a certain thing. She gets out her laptop, and there's a sticker on top that says "Shout Your Abortion." Then—no joke—she picks up a print magazine she got at the airport. The title of the article she's reading next to me is "Megachurch Pastor Resigns Because of Sexual Misconduct."
I'm thinking: Are you kidding me? Am I going to do my move? I'm debating it.
Finally, she just turns to me. This is the first thing she says:
So what do you do for a living?
In that moment, I have to decide: Am I going to lie? And literally what came out of my mouth was, "Well, I work for a nonprofit."
But 30 seconds later, the Holy Spirit wrecked me. The Holy Spirit said, "Yep, you are a nonprofit." And I realized I had assumed she wouldn't be interested based on what I saw on the outside.
Here's my point: I assumed based on external appearance that she wasn't interested in what I had to say. But here's what I've wondered every day since then—what if God intentionally positioned me in that seat so that if I had been a man who stood firm and acted with courage, God would have used me to flip everything she thought and every misconception she had about Christians? I missed it.
You've got to assume that everybody around you is interested. And if you've been on team Jesus for a while, can I tell you something? The bad thing about being on team Jesus for a long time is you start forgetting what people who aren't on team Jesus think like.
Let me give you an example. A couple years ago, there was a girl at Lake Point who commented on one of my Instagram posts about a sermon. She said: people in her family who weren't Christian wanted to go to church with a Christian couple they'd become friends with, but the couple never invited them. You know why? These family members didn't grow up in church. They felt like they'd be inviting themselves if they just showed up. They didn't want to be rude by showing up at a church without an invite.
You forgot what people think. Some people are waiting and hoping you'll extend the invitation.
We need to assume it's what's called the doctrine of pervenient grace. We need to assume that everywhere a Spirit-filled Christian goes, the Holy Spirit went ahead of us and prepared the people we were going to come in contact with for that divine encounter with us and to open their hearts to us.
Let me give you one example. Our international partner in rural northern Ghana is a pastor named Muhammad Zlim. Now, you may be wondering: why is a pastor's name Muhammad? Well, his dad was an Islamic imam. When Muhammad was 15 or 16 years old—and this is happening to Muslims all over the world right now—he had a dream of a man in white who explained to him that he was Jesus Christ and that he was the way, the truth, and the life. The man in the dream told him that someday someone would come to tell him about the way to salvation through Jesus.
When that missionary came, what that missionary could have done is think: "That guy's a Muslim imam's family. He definitely is not interested." But Jesus Christ had gone ahead. God's a way maker. He can make a way where there is no way. You've got to assume. Assume people are interested.
(Already covered above.)
Once you assume people are interested, watch this: build a bridge, not a wall. This is what Paul does.
Here's the worst strategy to share your faith ever: You find somebody who's not on team Jesus, figure out all the stuff you disagree on, and make the whole relationship about the stuff you disagree on. Instead of building a bridge, you're building a wall. You end up making the whole conversation about politics, media, or their sin. But here's something important: lost people act like lost people. News flash.
Some people will say, "Oh, you're trying to clean them up." But Jesus is the one that washes us white as snow. He does the cleansing. You don't get people to wash their hands before they hop in the shower. We just got to get them to Jesus. Jesus will clean them up in his way, in his time. That's his job. We do our job.
What Paul does is the opposite of finding what they disagree on. He finds the one thing they have in common and makes the relationship about that. Listen to how he does it:
I too was convinced I ought to do all that was possible to oppose the name of Jesus of Nazareth. That's just what I did in Jerusalem. On the authority of the chief priests, I put many of the Lord's people in prison. When they were put to death, I cast my vote against them. Many a time I went from one synagogue to another to have them punished and I tried to force them to blaspheme. I was so obsessed with persecuting them I even hunted them down in foreign cities.
He's going, "Oh, YOU LIKE KILLING CHRISTIANS? I USED TO BE INTO THAT, TOO. We got a thing together." He builds a bridge.
So here's what it looks like: When you've got your one more and you're trying to win them, whatever they're into, you're into. Oh bro, you're into sports? I'm a sports guy now. You into bass fishing? I just bought a Zebco. You like bowling? I'm going to go get some shoes.
Some of you look at a guy like me and think, "Oh, that's easy for you, man. You're a professional Christian." Listen to me: The fact that you're not like me, that's your advantage, not your disadvantage. Because all your friends would look at me and think they don't want to be a Christian like that. But they'll look at you and think, "Oh, I could be a Christian like him. I could be a Christian like her." That's your advantage.
Last week was the largest baptism weekend in Lake Point history. In one week, 741 people went public in their faith in Jesus Christ. And I want to show you pictures of three of them to make a point.
This is Miss Carolyn. She's at a senior care facility in the DFW area. There was ministry from the Forney campus going on there. She starts watching online, gets saved, bends her knee to Jesus. The dudes over at Forney didn't let her wheelchair be a barrier—they carried her into the water and baptized her.
This is Sue. Sue is a Korean woman who moved to Japan. About a year ago, she saw some of our stuff online, started watching church online every week, listening to podcasts, studying her Bible alone in her apartment in Japan. She bent her knee to Jesus halfway across the world last week and flew here to be baptized with you.
And this guy—I didn't get to meet him, but look at him. Face tats, the whole thing.
Here's my point: If Miss Carolyn's friends met me, they'd probably think I'm some young whippersnapper they don't want to listen to. If Sue's friends met me, they'd probably think I'm some dumb white kid from rural Kentucky they don't want to listen to. If this guy's friends met me, they'd probably think I'm some soft fella up there. But do you know who they would listen to? They'd listen to her and her and him. They'd listen to them. You're the bridge. You're the person God has appointed as an ambassador of Christ into all the friend groups you have.
Let me give you an anchor story that has tattooed itself on my soul. My first ministry job ever, I was 22 years old, a youth pastor in rural Kentucky. We had a little worship service on Wednesday nights called WOW—Worship on Wednesday. Every Wednesday, I'd go across the street to Papa John's and get pizza to bribe kids who didn't want to come.
The same guy worked there every week, and we got to know each other. This guy—when you saw him, you could tell he probably hadn't lived an easy life. He was missing some teeth, maybe from drug use. He had the same little Papa John's gear on, caked in grease. Same pair of jeans every week with holes all in it. But I just liked this guy, and I wanted him to know Jesus.
So here was my move: I said, "Hey man, me and my wife are new to the area. We don't have any friends yet. Do you want to come sit with us at church? We don't really know anybody yet." I did it every week. Finally, there came a week where he said, "You know what? I'm in."
The next Sunday, I showed up 20 minutes early. If you ever invite somebody to church who's not a church person, heads up—they're going to be super early. So I'm standing in the lobby, 20 minutes early, waiting. He doesn't come. Then 15 minutes—still not there. 10 minutes, 5 minutes, service starts. He's still not there. 5 minutes after service, 10 minutes after—still not there. I've got to go do my job, so I go in.
The next Wednesday, I go back to Papa John's and say, "Hey bro, I missed you." His face falls and he says, "Oh man, actually, I did come." I say, "What? What do you mean?" He tells me, "Man, I came, but I had a shift right after church, so I just wore my Papa John's gear. As I was walking in, there was a man in the parking lot in a suit. He stopped me and said, 'Son, don't you have anything else to wear? We wear God's best into God's house.'"
When he told me that, I choked back tears. I was like, "Oh man, I'm so sorry." I went out to my little '96 green Kia Sophia in the parking lot and I wept. It wasn't because I was driving a '96 Kia Sophia. Something just broke in me.
In that moment, there was a decision that crystallized non-verbally in my heart. If I ever get to decide what a church is like, if I ever get to set the culture and the vibe, something's going to be very clear: if you're a lost person trying to come to church to hear the good news of Jesus Christ, here's the dress code—please wear something. That's it. Just please wear something. If you're trying to get Jesus, come exactly like you are. Come with your doubts. Come with your fears. Bring all your failures. Bring your sins up in here. Bring your addictions up in here. We want them up in here. Bring everything you got.
It's about tearing down walls and building bridges for the glory of Jesus Christ. Build a bridge.
The last thing Paul does in this passage—he converts a first down. Now, here's what I mean by this.
Paul shares his faith, and it doesn't end how you think. He finishes telling this guy about Jesus and says:
I'm saying nothing beyond what the prophets and Moses said would happen—that the Messiah was going to suffer and, as the first to rise from the dead, he would bring the message of light to his own people and to the Gentiles.
Now, here's what happens: Festus interrupts Paul's defense. And how does Festus respond? He doesn't say, "I'm cut to the heart. What must I do to be saved?" He doesn't raise his hand. Instead, he says:
YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR MIND, PAUL!
Then Agrippa says:
Do you think in such a short time you can persuade me to be a Christian?
In other words, it didn't get this dude over the line. He didn't make the decision.
Here's what I want to finish with, and this is an anchor illustration at Lake Point. My predecessor, Pastor Steve Stroop, the founding pastor of this church, one of the greatest pastors our nation has ever seen, shares his faith with everybody. He uses something super practical.
People don't get saved how you think they get saved.
Imagine this: Here's zero—this is the point of crossing the line of faith. Everyone you meet is somewhere along a spectrum. This is negative 1, -2, -3, all the way down to -10. Everybody you meet is somewhere along this spectrum of steps away from making a decision to bend their knee to Jesus Christ.
Here's the big idea: A lot of people think, "I need to figure out in one conversation how to get them over the line and for them to trust Christ." But listen—if you think your job is to do everything in one conversation, you won't be able to find a way and you'll end up doing nothing.
What we need to do, what you see in the New Testament, is be comfortable converting first downs. You don't have to make every conversation a touchdown. First downs, not touchdowns.
Here's how this works practically. You can use this stuff with your one more. Everybody has a one more—the person who's closest to you but farthest from God. That's why we gave you those little one more cards.
Here's how people actually get saved, something you don't see because I watch it happen all the time.
Everybody you meet is somewhere along a spectrum of steps away from making a decision to bend their knee to Jesus Christ. A lot of people think their job is to get someone over the line of faith in one conversation, but if you think your job is to do everything in one conversation, you won't be able to find a way and you'll end up doing nothing.
Be comfortable converting first downs—you don't have to make every conversation a touchdown. This is how people actually get saved. Here's the process step by step.
Everybody has a "one more"—the person who's closest to you but farthest from God. We gave you one more cards for this reason. Write the name of that person and put it somewhere super visible where you'll pray for them every day—like your bathroom mirror.
Don't put it in a super public place like your computer screen at work. You don't want Hank walking in and asking why his name is on a card about going to hell.
When you put it on your bathroom mirror and pray for that person every morning and evening, you're asking God to give you an opportunity to show them the love of Christ.
When you start praying, God begins to supernaturally soften that person's heart. They don't even know it's happening, but they move from negative 10 to negative 8.
Somewhere around negative 8 to 6, what usually happens next is a loving interaction with a Christian that changes how they think about Christians. Here's what we do: when we go out to eat, we give really big tips that people will remember. When they leave, instead of thinking Christians are stingy and jerks, they think, "Man, that Christian family was thoughtful and caring and blessed me today." This moves them up the spectrum to maybe negative 5.
About right here on the spectrum, the best thing you can do is be public that you're on team Jesus. Jesus said:
"If you deny me before men, I will deny you before my father in heaven."
No secret agent Christians. If the world has the courage to come out of the closet for worldly things, Christians need to have the courage to come out of the closet for team Jesus.
This is easy and non-cringe. When your buddy at work asks how your weekend was, just say, "Good. Hit the bass pond, went to church on Sunday. It was great." Drop something that sends a signal: I'm on team Jesus.
You can also share something on social media. You'd be shocked how many people end up at church because they kept seeing a sticker on the back of trucks and kept wondering what it was. People were saying, "Oh, that's my church. I love my church." That moves them on the spectrum.
Once they get close to the line, this is where what Paul does in the passage—he just shares his story. When they're talking to you about going through a tough time—a divorce, cancer, whatever—you just drop in a little sentence: "Man, I went through a divorce, too, about a decade ago. I never would have gotten through it without Christ."
Then you just leave it right there. Make no big sudden movements—you don't want to scare them away. If they ask, you go farther. Otherwise, just leave it.
That moves them to right here, where they're ready for an invitation to church—to hear a clear gospel presentation. As it says in John's Gospel: "Come see a man who told me everything I ever did."
Here's what keeps you from doing this: you're scared they're going to ask a question you can't answer. You think you need to be able to defend every detail—maybe they'll ask about dinosaurs. It's okay to say, "Bro, I don't know. Let me find that out." But here's what's really tripping you up: you're confused about what your role in the courtroom is supposed to be.
In Acts 1, Jesus gave us marching orders and said, "You will be my witnesses." You might think Jesus meant you should be his prosecuting attorneys—ready to nail anyone to the wall with airtight arguments and clever rebuttals.
Jesus did not command you to go into the world and be his attorneys. He said, "You will be my witnesses."
An attorney makes an airtight case. A witness just shares their side of the story. That's your job—just go and say, "Man, here's what I know God did in my life." That's all you need to do.
Let me tell you something about inviting your one more to church. This is the one part of the evangelism process that's easier for you than it is for me. What am I supposed to do—say, "Hey man, come to church and hear me preach. My mom says I'm amazing"? It's awkward.
Years ago, I ran an experiment. I invited a guy named Elvis to church on Easter, and I didn't tell him I was the pastor. He came, we sat in the front row, and when the lights went down and I got up to go to the pulpit, he literally grabbed the back of my belt buckle and asked, "Where are you going?"
But here's the real deal: the best church service you ever attend is going to be the one where your one more—the prodigal son or prodigal daughter you've been praying for for three years, three decades—is sitting with you.
When I get to the invitation at the end of the service, my eyes start leaking every time. I'll say, "Everybody bow your heads and close your eyes. One: God loves you. Two: you came here for a reason today. Three: shoot your hand up in the air right now."
Every other church service of the year, you keep your head bowed and eyes closed. But when your one more is with you, you get my permission to cheat and peek. And you're going to see that shoulder move. You're going to see that hand shoot up in the air. In that moment, you're going to know that somebody is going to spend eternity with Christ in heaven because God used you as an ambassador of heaven.
That's what God is calling you to do. As disciples of Jesus Christ, seek and save people with the love of Jesus Christ.
