Be present not impressive

Have you ever met someone who makes you reassess your life? Just one meeting with Henry Olonga made me rethink my whole approach to evangelism.

Henry is an impressive man: a lightning-quick bowler for Zimbabwe’s national cricket team (1995–2003); an operatically trained singer with a Zimbabwean number one; a popular contestant – and sometimes winner – in multiple TV talent shows; and a shining light for Jesus. This is how I once thought of evangelism. It’s about adding more and more accomplishments to your CV, then bolting on an emphatic ‘and a Christian!’

Check out Glen, I’d imagine the onlookers saying, he’s such a great guy AND he’s a Christian. Somehow I managed to kid myself that investing in the first half of this strategy (convincing people of my greatness!) was all in the service of Christ. It’s a hopeless strategy for all sorts of reasons, and not one that Henry was engaged with. The things he did weren’t really aimed at winning friends and influencing people.

Henry is famous for wearing a black arm-band during the 2003 Cricket World Cup to protest the death of democracy at the hands of Robert Mugabe. He had to flee for his life and has been in exile from his homeland ever since. This stand was unpopular – and not just with Mugabe. But Henry was not interested in calculating the net appeal of any given action, he was interested in following Jesus wherever that leads. This was true when it came to his personal witness in the cricket team too.

Henry would unashamedly speak of Jesus and share Christian literature with his teammates. Largely it would fall on deaf ears and the literature would find its way into the bin. But, once again, Henry wasn’t motivated by the result. He did what he thought was right.

About ten years ago I got to meet Henry and I was eager to ask him about his time as a cricketer. I too was a cricketer and a Christian (though much shabbier at both if I’m honest!), and I too wanted to shine for Jesus in my cricket club. But, looking back, I think my approach to witness as a sportsman was all wrong. I basically thought that the ‘advertising’ for Jesus would be someone who took five wickets, scored 100 runs, was named man of the match, stayed late in the bar afterwards telling amazing mother-in-law gags AND was a Christian. It was the attempt to be impressive for Jesus (ostensibly!). But Henry changed my outlook.

He surprised me when he told me that his teammates weren’t generally impressed by him or his witness. (If even Henry with his talent, charm, good looks, and humour can’t impress at that level, there’s no hope for the rest of us).

Did that mean his evangelism was a dead loss? Not at all. It’s just that the most fruitful evangelism happened in the least expected moments. Mostly his teammates did not want to know about spiritual things – certainly not when they were around the other players. But then life took a ‘left turn’. If they got injured, or cut from the team, or their girlfriend dumped them, then they were ready to hear. And that was when they sought out Henry for counsel.

That’s when I realised how wrong my approach had been. Who would a team-mate want to confide in when life gets hard? The alpha male on the field? The joker in the bar? No; the one with quiet integrity and wisdom. I realised that the goal is not to stand in the limelight. The point is to be the gently glowing lamp in the corner. When things get dark, people will gravitate towards you.

Don’t be impressive, be present. Don’t be a jester, be a chaplain. Aim to be the person your friends turn to when life gets hard. That’s when the deepest sharing of hearts, lives and faith can really happen.