Last night, I spent some time in downtown Fort Worth.

I always find city life fascinating, especially at night, and this was no exception. I spent most of my time at Barnes and Noble, just walking around and looking at the bookshelves--and listening to people. Of course, there were a few assholes loitering about here and there--people who, for want of sense, felt it necessary to speak at the top of their lungs about inane things (distracting other customers and townspeople)--but there were some fascinating bits and pieces of conversation here and there.

What I mostly remember was an impromptu conversation between a couple of store employees and their friends about God, literature, and the relationship between the two. The bits and pieces I heard from this conversation were interesting, not simply because I agreed with a lot of what was said, but because it seemed that, for once, I was hearing people talk about their faith and beliefs in a natural setting, unencumbered by agendas or the pressure to "convert" someone.

In fact, I saw a great many people enjoying themselves, sitting on the floor reading in pairs or groups, talking excitedly about an idea they had come across in their reading or a book they had liked, or simply enjoying the evening together. I ran across a father and son who were looking for a copy of Alternative Press (a music magazine) that I happened to be holding in my hands. The three of us admired a photo spread of the Dresden Dolls that had decidedly sadomasochistic overtones . . . something I never imagined could happen even a couple of years ago.

Personal barriers, cultural barriers, and even spiritual barriers seemed to dissolve in the store while I was there. It was like someone had posted a sign on the door saying, "Come as you are--we take no pretenders."

Contrast this personal freedom with the Christian evangelistic group I ran into on the street corner outside the store.

This group of people had a distinctly anti-social and aggressive approach to the people they met--even going so far as to stand in a line blocking people from going around them. (They tried this with me, but I budged past them, saying "excuse me" as rudely as I could. I heard their preacher yell "Jesus saves!" after me at the top of his lungs.) They didn't really talk with anyone--they just handed out pamphlets and waylaid whoever they could with a speech or series of rapid-fire questions.

I'm sure these people thought they were doing wonderful things and helping people find their path to God . . . personally, I thought the store owners had every right to request that they use another street corner. :)

I have never felt comfottable with "street evangelism," and when I participated in it (as, sadly, I did shortly after becoming a Christian), I always had the sick feeling inside of me that I was doing more to hurt people than anything else. Every street preacher I've ever come across has struck me as an obnoxious windbag with all the charm of an insurance salesman (and half the wit). There's something so . . . wrong . . . about standing on a street corner and harassing people in the name of God.

It's so . . . showy, self-centered, and flamboyant.

The only "street evangelists" I have ever been able to respect are the Gideons. They have a calm demeanor, they tend to talk to people like they're intelligent and capable of making their own decisions, and . . . hell, those little green Bibles they hand out are freakin' cool. :)

More than that, though, the ones I've run into seem to have remembered that a conversation with someone is not something to be afraid of.

I suspect that most "street evangelists" engage in their practice as a way of manufacturing a way to talk about their faith that doesn't involve dialogue with people who can (and in many cases do) challenge what they believe. Perhaps it is, in part, an unconscious reaction to the instability that accompanies the acceptance of Jesus Christ into a person's life--after all, it is a faith decision that entails, at its core, some readjustment of perceptions, values, and priorities, so it is not hard to imagine someone coming to faith in Christ, being unsure about who he/she is, and being susceptible to programs or agendas that are advertised as "spiritual" or "Christian" activities.

Personally, I believe your "evangelism" derives from who you are, and from the character you exhibit in your everyday life. If these are lacking, then you may want to reexamine what you really believe.