The Key to Converting People

How to influence people

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash

(A seven-minute read)

Back a hundred years ago, when I graduated from college, the last requirement I had to fulfill was participating in what is known as a “field school of evangelism.” This is when a number of students spend part of their summer learning from and assisting an evangelist, who puts on a series of public meetings that focus on various topics—though they’re usually focused on last-days events.

The goal, of course, is to gather in as many people as possible who are not from our faith community, with the hopes of introducing and drawing them into truth, and to train young proteges in the process, with the hopes that when they get their pastoral assignments, they would know how to conduct such meetings themselves.

There is a lot that could be said about this type of exercise in general, but there is a very specific experience I had during my training that stood out more than any other. Toward the end of the meetings, which lasted some five weeks (usually going four to five nights a week), there was one particular gentleman who had been attending who had expressed interest in getting baptized and joining our faith community.

There was one problem, however: he had a bad smoking habit.

Whether right or wrong (which is beside the point for my purposes here), the evangelist, following how he understood the policies and protocols of the denomination, made it clear that he would not baptize the fellow if he was still addicted to cigarettes. The evangelist really wanted to baptize the man, of course, but had limited time before he had to move on to his next city to conduct his next series of public meetings.

So I’ll never forget what he did. He took me, as well as another classmate or two, and visited the man in his house, trying to persuade him to give up the cigarettes. After a few minutes of unsuccessful persuasion, the evangelist, who I really liked and believed to be a sincere man, pulled out his secret weapon: his Bible.

Only, he didn’t open it up and read from it. He placed the Bible on the coffee table in the living room, asked the man for a pack of his cigarettes, placed it on top of the Bible and then, with great pathos and conviction in his voice, launched into his appeal. “What will you choose, brother?” he asked. “These cigarettes or Jesus? Smoking or the Bible?”

I honestly don’t remember how the story ended. I don’t recall if the man gave up his cigarettes and got baptized, or whether these efforts were unsuccessful. Obviously, what was seared into my memory more than anything was the tactic the evangelist took in trying to gain a convert. Again, I really liked the evangelist and believed he was a nice man. I just felt icky about the whole approach. It felt manipulative, coercive—even dehumanizing.  

Since then, I’ve had quite a shift in my own outlook on how to interact with and journey with people. Indeed, I’ve had a significant shift when it comes to my understanding of what it means to live the Jesus-way, to be a part of His family, and to participate in His mission. And one thing that has solidified in my mind, which I felt just faintly back then during that experience, is that I want nothing to do with a religious environment that goes anywhere near utilizing fear or manipulation in the way we interact with people. I would rather err on the side of giving people extreme space than go anywhere near encroaching upon their agency and freedom.

And, along the way I’ve actually stumbled upon a profound thought that has shifted my own approach to ministry and to sharing my faith—and to, really, relationships in general: the key to converting people is—quite amazingly and counterintuitively—to stop trying to convert them.

The Road Less Traveled

A few years ago my friend Jim gave me a book that put into words what I had been sensing in my being for a while. The book is entitled, The Different Drum, by psychiatrist M. Scott Peck—who is most noted for his book The Road Less Traveled—and it is his observations on how to go about forming true and healthy community.

Throughout the book, written over three decades ago, one of his main theses is that in order to form true and authentic community, we need to foster a safe and non-condemning environment. In particular, these paragraphs arrested my attention:

Human beings have within them a natural yearning and thrust toward health and wholeness and holiness. (All three words are derived from the same root.) Most of the time, however, this thrust, this energy, is enchained by fear, neutralized by defenses and resistances. But put a human being in a truly safe place, where these defenses and resistances are no longer necessary, and the thrust toward health is liberated. When we are safe, there is a natural tendency for us to heal and convert ourselves. . . .

Paradoxically, then, a group of humans becomes healing and converting only after its members have learned to stop trying to heal and convert. Community is a safe place precisely because no one is attempting to heal or convert you, to fix you, to change you. Instead, the members accept you as you are. You are free to be you. And being so free, you are free to discard defenses, masks, disguises; free to seek your own psychological and spiritual health; free to become your whole and holy self.

The first time I read this, I sat up in my chair. I was blown away. I believe, of course, that the “natural” thrust and inclination toward self-healing is actually the work of the Spirit. But the principle is the still the same: the key to converting a person is to stop trying to convert them. Our task is to simply give people a safe space to let down their defenses so the Spirit can work and convert them—which seems so incredibly counterintuitive on some level.

Though I should hasten to add: I’m not only speaking here about “conversion” in some Christian sense, as in proselytizing—though it certainly applies to that. I’m speaking also in a more general sense—anytime another person has a different perspective than we do, and we’d love for them to see it our way (of course, it bears mentioning that perhaps we’re the ones who actually need to have our perspective changed). Whether the topic is COVID vaccinations, politics, the economy—or whatever. Or if it’s some sort of behavior—an addiction, a bad habit, a personality defect; people don’t change unless they feel safe—and feel safe enough to change without condemnation.

I’ve seen this in my own life: the people who’ve had the biggest impact on me, and been the most successful in influencing me to a different perspective and a different way of life, are the people who love me unconditionally and accept me for who I am—the people with whom I feel safe. Those that lead with condemnation just push me away and make it less likely for me to listen to them. And it’s not even just condemnation that pushes me away; often times it’s unsolicited advice, unwelcome opinions, self-initiated lecturing—basically, people telling me how I should live my life or what I should believe when I haven’t asked them to share their perspective with me. It’s essentially anyone offering feedback and critique—even if it’s shared with kindness—before they’ve earned the right to offer it.

Does that resonate with your experience, when you do an honest evaluation of the people who’ve had the biggest influence on you?

So, yes, I’ve bought into the idea of being a “safe” person and providing “safe” spaces—which is partly why the congregation I lead has a mission statement which says we exist to be a “safe, serving, and Jesus-centered community.” We believe our role is to simply invite people into safe, loving, and non-condemning community with us, inviting them to be who they are without judgment or condemnation, believing that the Spirit can bring the necessary conviction and bring the necessary change as He sees fit.

This doesn’t mean, of course, that there is never a time to be more direct (a topic I plan to return to next week). But I’ve decided that if I’m going to err, I’d rather err on the side of giving people too much leeway and providing non-condemning space, rather than any hint of pressure that might push people away and/or potentially compel behavior that they would not otherwise choose for themselves if they weren’t pressured by me.

Not that I’m batting a thousand on this at all, nor have I arrived. It’s definitely a struggle for me. But, in theory, I at least try to just sit with people without agenda, providing a space for them to feel loved, accepted, and valued just as they are—and communicating, by God’s grace, that they don’t have to be someone else, or believe something else, or live another way else, in order to share life with me.

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Shawn is a pastor in Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil student at the University of Oxford (what they call a PhD), focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram and Twitter, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.