by Tim Quitco

“Hey man, how’s the surf looking today?”

I had no qualms asking a gentleman who had a little salt on his brow and was wearing a RVCA shirt and board shorts that random question in the middle of a coffee shop, simply because he looked like someone I could talk to. And sure enough, he didn’t look at me like I was some sort of prying, nosy weirdo. He simply chuckled, and responded, “It was ripping, brah.” And we continued on our conversation about South Florida, spearfishing, the best seafood spots and “environmental concerns.”

One of my best friends walked up to an older man wearing a Tampa Bay shirt, smiled and said, “Jameis Winston is looking good this year!” And sure enough, they continue a conversation about football, Cadillac Williams and why they can’t stand the New Orleans Saints. All because he looked like someone he could talk to.

For the most part, when it comes to our own self-interests, we have no hesitations conversing with strangers we think look like someone we can talk to. We’re not worried if their stance clashes with ours. We’re not worried about their opinion of us. Everybody is bold enough to talk about something that they find interesting with an individual who looks like someone they can talk to, whether they acknowledge it or not.

Here’s the question, then. Why can we talk to random strangers about insignificant things without fear, yet don’t share the same fervor with sharing the Gospel? In a world as dark as ours, in a culture as spiritually dark as South Florida’s, doesn’t everyone look like someone you can talk to? Maybe you’re not sure if that person you ran into on the street is saved. What happens if you talk to them? Maybe they will ridicule you or be completely uninterested. Maybe they will throw up their hands, repent and believe that Jesus Christ died for their sins and change their life forever. Why do you hesitate to ask someone if they know about the love of Jesus, or if they even know who He is?

If we are believers who want to proclaim the kingdom of God, teach about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance (Acts 28:13), doesn’t everyone look like someone you can talk to? A stranger’s salvation is a whole lot more interesting than their football team or favorite fish to shoot. A redirected boldness for the Gospel may not ensure salvation, but it does plant a seed —a seed that could change someone’s life.

Coincidentally, as I write this, Jimi Hendrix’s “Bold as Love” has just started playing in my headphones. Hendrix had it three-quarters right. We need to be bold as God’s love, and start sharing the Gospel with all the people who look like someone we can talk to.