Somewhere along the way, many of us picked up the idea that our job as Christians is to get people to believe the right things—to lead them to a moment of decision, to make sure they say the right prayer, and to gently (or not-so-gently) steer them toward a life that looks more like ours.
But is that really what Jesus asked us to do?
The Difference Between Love and an Agenda
Imagine getting a message from an old friend you haven’t seen in years. She’s excited to reconnect, says she’s been thinking about you, and suggests meeting for coffee. It feels good to be remembered, so you agree.
At the café, she greets you with warmth and excitement. She asks about your life, your family, even remembers little details from long ago. At first, it’s refreshing—until something shifts. Her enthusiasm starts to feel a little too rehearsed, her questions a little too strategic.
After half an hour of catching up, she leans in, thanks you for sharing, and then says, “I couldn’t help but think about how much your family could benefit from something that’s changed my life.” Then comes the pitch. She’s a representative for a wellness company with amazing products—supplements tailored perfectly for the needs of the family members you just told her about. She even suggests that you could become a representative yourself, providing these life-changing products to those you love.
And just like that, the warmth fades.
It’s not that the supplements are bad. It’s not even that she doesn’t care. But suddenly, the whole conversation feels like it had a purpose other than love.
Now, consider Jesus.
Jesus Didn’t Treat People Like Projects
Jesus met people right where they were—whether they were fishing, collecting taxes, or drawing water from a well. He didn’t start with a pitch. He didn’t offer them a five-step plan for life change.
He simply saw them.
He ate at their tables. He laughed with them. He asked them questions. He listened. And when it came time to invite them into something deeper, it didn’t feel forced—it felt like love leading the way.
Some people followed. Others walked away. And Jesus let them (Mark 10:21-22).
Paul carried this same spirit, writing to the Thessalonians: “Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well” (1 Thessalonians 2:8). The gospel wasn’t a sales pitch to Paul—it was woven into real, honest relationships.
If evangelism is driven by a desire to change people rather than to know and love them, is it really love at all?
Trusting God for the Growth
Paul also wrote, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth” (1 Corinthians 3:6). It’s a reminder that transformation isn’t our job. It never was. Yet, so many well-meaning Christians carry the weight of trying to “win” people to Jesus, as if their eternity hangs in the balance of our ability to convince them. That kind of pressure leads to exhaustion, guilt, and often, relationships that feel disingenuous.
People aren’t projects, and God isn’t a product. Love tied to an expectation that someone must eventually conform isn’t really love—it’s a strategy.
What If the Call Is Simply to Love?
Jesus never told His followers to go out and “convert” people. What He did say was simple:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind… and love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37-39).
And when He gave the Great Commission (Matthew 28:19-20), He didn’t tell His followers to persuade people into belief—He told them to make disciples. A disciple isn’t someone pressured into agreement but someone invited into relationship. Even the word “go” in that passage is better translated as “as you are going”—suggesting that discipleship isn’t about a sales pitch but about walking with people, sharing life with them, and letting them see the love of God through authentic relationship.
Love without an agenda is like planting a garden. A gardener doesn’t force seeds to grow—he waters, tends, and nurtures the soil. But the growth itself? That’s out of his hands. And yet, stepping into this kind of freedom can feel unsettling.
For those who have always relied on a script, a strategy, a sense of control, removing the pressure to convert others can be unnerving. If evangelism isn’t about persuasion, then what is it? Without the sales pitch, what do we say?
That discomfort is actually a gift.
It strips away the temptation to measure faithfulness by how many people respond the way we want them to. It forces us to show up in the lives of others with more head space for what actually matters—being present, listening deeply, and loving without an agenda.
And something else happens, too.
When the focus is no longer on how to be persuasive, there’s more space to actually experience God. Instead of studying scripture to find the next best argument, we read to encounter Him. Instead of praying for the right words to convince someone, we pray simply to be in His presence.
In letting go of the need to perform, we gain something far greater—the ability to be fully present with God and fully present with others, without the weight of results on our shoulders.
It also challenges something deeper: the tendency to attach personal validation to the decisions of others. To love someone without controlling their response means untangling personal worth from whether or not they agree with us, change because of us, or validate our faith with their choices.
It means trusting the Spirit to do what only the Spirit can do.
And it means resting in the promise that we are the Temple of the Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19), delivering God’s presence through our own uniquely God-given personalities—not through pressure, not through performance, but through love.
Because in the end, the way of Jesus isn’t about sealing the deal. It’s about embodying love and letting that love speak for itself.
Because in the end, the gospel is not a pitch to be perfected, but a love to be lived.
Because in the end, the gospel isn’t about closing the deal—it’s about opening the door to love.
Jesus didn’t come to sell salvation—He came to embody love, and that love changed everything.
The good news was never meant to be forced—it was meant to be felt.
Jesus didn’t offer people a product—He offered them Himself in relationship. Let’s go and do likewise.
