The Gospel They Watch: How a Christian's life can draw people toward Heaven, or push them away

Years ago, my job at a fast food restaurant put me right across the street from a cute little brown church. Every Sunday, a visit was on the agenda, and something always got in the way.

Then one Wednesday night, my boss called and asked me to come in. Wednesdays were normally my night off, but someone had called off and he needed a body. It was a slow night, and I was the only one at the counter when the pastor of that little church walked in with his wife and friends. Finally, a chance to talk with him about his church and about joining.

Before a word could come out, the insults started. He fixated on my scars so completely that he forgot he was speaking to a child of God. He was loud and cruel, calling me names like “Devil’s spawn” and “monster.” He said, “God would never create anything as ugly as you,” and “not even Jesus could love such a heinous monster.” Other customers watched, and my boss came out from the back to see what was happening.

Ideally, the moment would have ended with a quote of Isaiah 53:2, which points out that even Jesus was not attractive in appearance. Instead, I ran to the storage closet and sat on the floor crying. My boss kicked them out and came to check on me. His words have stayed with me ever since: “That’s why I’d rather go to Hell. I don’t want to spend eternity with people like them.”

He was admitting that he was choosing Hell because of the vile behavior of people like that pastor. And the reason Wednesdays were my night off? He had been trying to protect me from people like them.

Moments like that stay with people for years, and they point to something every Christian needs to take seriously: the way we live is being watched, and it matters far more than we think.

Most people will never read a theology book. They will, however, watch a Christian. They notice how we speak to the waiter when the food is late, how we handle a disagreement, what we do with money, and how we treat the people who can do nothing for us. Without ever saying it aloud, they are asking a question: Is the God this person follows worth knowing?

That question is the reason this post exists. It is a sobering thought that our everyday conduct can make the road to God look inviting or look closed. If we believe Heaven and Hell are real, then the way we live is never merely a private matter.

The Bible Many People Will Actually Read

Paul told the Corinthians that they were "a letter from Christ... known and read by everyone" (2 Corinthians 3:2-3). Notice that he did not say they were writing a letter, but that they were one. Our lives are the text. For many people, especially those who have never opened a Bible, the first and sometimes only version of the gospel they encounter is the one we are living out in front of them.

Jesus put it plainly: "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another" (John 13:35). The proof He pointed to was not our doctrine, our church attendance, or our moral positions. It was love. When that love is visible, people lean in. When it is absent, they conclude that whatever we have must not be very real.

When Our Lives Close the Door

There is an uncomfortable side to this, and Scripture does not shy away from it. Paul wrote to people who knew the law well and yet dishonored God through their conduct: "God's name is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you" (Romans 2:24). Jesus spoke even more sharply about those who cause others to stumble, saying it would be better for them to have a millstone hung around their neck than to lead one of these little ones astray (Luke 17:1-2).

What does stumbling look like today?

• Hypocrisy. Preaching grace on Sabbath and practicing cruelty the next day. Nothing sends a seeker away faster than the sense that faith is a costume.

• Harshness and judgment. Treating people as projects or problems rather than as image-bearers God loves.

• Gossip and division. Outsiders watch how believers speak about one another. Bitter church fights have driven many away from Christ.

• Indifference to suffering. A faith that has nothing to say to the grieving, the poor, or the lonely is hard to recognize as the faith of Jesus.

• Love of money and status. When people see Christians chasing the same things everyone else chases, they wonder what is different.

Many people carry a wound from a believer who failed them. Some of them have quietly concluded that if that is what Christianity produces, they want no part of it. Their conclusion may be mistaken, but we may have helped build it.

When Our Lives Open the Door

The opposite is also true, and it is the more hopeful half of the story. Peter urged believers to "live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God" (1 Peter 2:12). Jesus called His followers the light of the world and said that people who see their good works will praise the Father in Heaven (Matthew 5:14-16).

What does an inviting life look like?

• Humility that is quick to say "I was wrong."

• Forgiveness that stuns people who expected retaliation.

• Integrity that holds when no one is watching and when it costs something.

• Generosity that gives without keeping score.

• Joy and steadiness in hardship, which makes people ask what is holding us up (1 Peter 3:15).

• Welcome for the broken, the doubting, and the ones who do not yet belong.

More often than we realize, someone is won not by an argument but by an experience of being loved by a Christian. Faith becomes believable when it is visible.

A Necessary Balance

None of this means that we hold other people's eternal destiny in our hands. Each person answers to God for their own choices (Ezekiel 18:20; Romans 14:12), and salvation is the work of God's grace, not the product of our performance. People have come to Christ through deeply flawed believers, and others have turned away despite wonderful examples. God is sovereign, and the Spirit moves in ways we cannot trace.

It also does not mean perfectionism. We will fail, and the same gospel we proclaim covers our failures. In fact, one of the most compelling things a Christian can do is repent publicly and honestly when they have gotten it wrong. Let people see how you respond when you slip, and let them see that you are forgiven, not perfect. People are rarely repelled by a sinner who admits it. They are repelled by one who pretends not to be.

But grace is never an excuse for carelessness. Paul was willing to adjust his own conduct and give up his own freedoms so that he might win some (1 Corinthians 9:19-23). If eternity is at stake for the people around us, our habits and attitudes are worth taking seriously.

Questions Worth Asking

Before closing, consider sitting with a few questions:

1. If someone judged Jesus only by watching me, what would they conclude?

2. Who in my life is quietly observing how I handle pressure, conflict, and money?

3. Is there someone I have hurt, whether by harshness, neglect, or hypocrisy, whom I need to approach with an apology?

4. Where have I been more concerned with being right than with being loving?

5. Who is one person I could intentionally show Christlike kindness this week?

Living a Believable Gospel

We will not get every moment right, and we are not asked to. We are asked to follow Christ sincerely, to lean on His strength, and to remember that we are being read. Somewhere, someone is deciding what they believe about God based partly on what they see in us.

For my boss, that someone was standing in a fast food restaurant, and he decided what he thought of Christians based on what he had just watched. He never needed a theology book to reach his conclusion. He only needed to see one pastor in action. I can't help wondering how different his answer might have been if the people who walked in had shown him the love of the One they claimed to follow.

May what they see make them want to come closer, and may it point them, again and again, to the One who is worth following.

How Will We Know His Sheep?

 If Jesus stood before us today and asked us to identify His sheep, how would we do it?

Would we look at the name of their church? Would we examine their political beliefs, their religious titles, their knowledge of Scripture, or the words they speak in public?

Or would we look for the things Jesus Himself said would identify them?

See,  when we open the Bible and listen to the words of Jesus, we discover something that deserves our serious attention: Jesus left us a way to recognize His sheep.

In John 10:27, Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”

Notice what He does not say. He does not say, “My sheep know how to call themselves Christians.” He does not say, “My sheep will be recognized by the religious leaders they follow.” He says they hear His voice, He knows them, and they follow Him.

That raises an important question: If we claim to follow Jesus, are we actually listening to what He said?

In Matthew 7:21, Jesus gives us a warning that should make every one of us pause: “Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven.” 

Think about that.

These are people who call Him Lord. They recognize His authority in their words. Some even point to their religious accomplishments and declare that they prophesied, cast out devils, and performed wonderful works in His name. They make it a point to emphasize what THEY did for Him, what their works produced. It is about them.

Yet Jesus tells them that their claims alone are not enough.

In Matthew 7:23, His response is devastating: And then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness!'” 

So we must ask ourselves: Is it possible to speak the name of Jesus while living in a way that contradicts His teachings?

According to Jesus Himself, the answer is yes.

And how did He tell us to recognize the difference?

In Matthew 7:16, He said, ”You will know them by their fruits.”

Not by their slogans. Not by their self-proclaimed righteousness. By their fruits.

What kind of fruit are we producing? Do our lives demonstrate mercy, honesty, humility, patience, and love? Or do we produce hatred, arrogance, deception, and contempt for those we consider beneath us?

In Matthew 25:31–46, Jesus describes the judgment of the nations. He speaks of feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick and imprisoned. He identifies Himself with those who are suffering, declaring that what is done to the least of these is done to Him. Let me repeat that. What is done to the LEAST of these is done to Him.

That is a difficult teaching because it forces us to look beyond religious appearances.

It asks whether our faith changes how we treat actual human beings.

In John 13:34–35, Jesus gives His disciples a new commandment: “that you also love one another. By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” 

There it is. Jesus tells us how His followers will be recognized.

Love.

Not the kind of love that exists only when someone agrees with us. Not the kind that disappears when another person belongs to a different political party, religion, nationality, or social class.

Jesus commands a love modeled on His own—a love expressed through service, sacrifice, and concern for others.

This does not mean that His followers must agree on every question or never correct wrongdoing. Jesus Himself confronted hypocrisy and injustice. But correction without humility, truth without mercy, and religious conviction without love should make us examine ourselves.

And that examination must begin with us.

It is easy to point at another person and declare that they are not one of Christ's sheep. It is harder to examine our own hearts and ask whether we are truly following the Shepherd.

So let us return to the question: How will we know His sheep?

Jesus gave us the answer. They hear His voice. They follow Him. Their lives bear fruit. They show love for one another. And they respond to the suffering of others with the compassion He commanded.

We may be impressed by a person's religious language, public displays of faith, or claims of righteousness. But Jesus calls us to look deeper.

The question is not simply who claims to belong to Jesus. The question is whether that person's life reflects the teachings of Jesus.

And before we use His words to judge the world around us, we should have the courage to let those same words judge us.

Because the Shepherd knows His sheep.

The question is whether we are truly following His voice.

Reaction Vs. Response

    Today is the day that America finishes their 2026 midterm elections. Votes are being tallied, people watching the news and social media feeds with anticipation on which direction that this country is going to head. Something tells me, human nature in fact, that the next couple of weeks are going to become ugly. People are going to react, positively if their “side” wins and negatively if they lose. Very few people will take the time to respond but the reaction will be enormous. So, what is the difference between the two and how does that affect us?

    Reacting is instant. Something happens, and before we’ve had a chance to think or pray, our mouth has already moved, our temper has already flared, or our feet are already running. A reaction is driven by whatever is loudest inside us at that moment, and very often that is fear.

    Responding is different. A response has a pause in it. There is a breath, a thought, a prayer, and then a choice. A response is driven by what we believe, and when it’s at its best, that is faith.

    Look at Israel at the Red Sea in Exodus 14. Pharaoh’s army is behind them and the water is in front of them. What do they do? They panic. They turn on Moses and say it would have been better to stay in Egypt. That is a reaction. They had just watched God break Egypt with plagues, they saw the power of God. They witnessed Egyptians burying their children. And yet, in the moment fear drowned out every memory of His faithfulness.

    Moses answers with a different spirit: "Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will accomplish for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall see again no more forever. 14 The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace." Exodus 14: 13-14. Notice he doesn’t say there is nothing to be afraid of. The army is real. He says, don’t let the fear drive.

    Or think of Peter in Matthew 14. He steps out of the boat and walks on water. That was faith. Then he sees the wind, and he begins to sink. Nothing about the storm changed. What changed was where he was looking. He took his eyes from Jesus and onto the storm. Fear took the wheel, and he cried out, “Lord, save me.”

    Fear tells us that everything depends on us, that God is absent, and that we must act right now or lose everything. That is why reactions so often leave wreckage behind: the harsh word, the rash decision, the bridge burned in an afternoon and mourned for years.

    Scripture gives us the other path. “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” Proverbs 15:1.  James 1:19 tells us to be “swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath”. That is a description of responding: space between the stimulus and the answer, and God invited into that space.

    Jesus is our clearest picture of this. In Mark 4, a violent storm is breaking over the boat, and He is asleep in the stern. When the disciples wake Him, He doesn’t scramble. He speaks to the wind and the waves, and then He asks His friends, “Why are you so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?” The storm outside was loud, but the peace inside Him was louder.

    Now some of you are thinking, “But what about Jesus in the temple? Wasn’t that anger? Wasn’t that a reaction?” Let’s look closely, because this story shows us the difference better than almost any other.

    In John 2, Jesus goes up to Jerusalem for the Passover. He walks into the temple, the house of His Father, and finds it full of people selling oxen, sheep, and doves, with money changers sitting at their tables. A place meant for prayer had become a marketplace. Worship was replaced with commerce.

    Now, what would a reaction look like? A reaction would have been to grab the nearest table and start swinging the moment He saw it. But read verse 15: “So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple courts.”

    When he had made it. Before a single table was overturned, Jesus stopped. He saw it, took it in, and then sat down and braided cords into a whip. That takes time. It takes a plan. Every knot was a pause. By the time He stood up, His anger had been shaped into purpose. Even the other Gospels hint at this. In Mark 11, Jesus enters the temple, looks around at everything, and leaves. He comes back the next day to act. This was not a man who lost control. This was a man who was in control of His anger and not controlled by it.

    And notice who He drove out and how. He told those selling doves, “Take these things away! Do not  make my Father’s house a house of merchandise.” He didn’t strike the doves or the people who were poor. He aimed at the corruption, not at the crowd. A reaction lashes out at whatever is nearby. A response knows exactly what it is confronting and why.

    Here is what the disciples remembered afterward: “Zeal for Your house has eaten Me up.” John 2:17. His motive was not fear, ego, or wounded pride. It was zeal for His Father. Fear says, “Protect yourself.” Faith says, “Honor God, whatever it costs.” Jesus faced down a crowd, the merchants, and the religious authorities who profited from all of it, and He was not intimidated by any of them. He acted from a place of settled trust in His Father.

    This tells us something important. Responding doesn’t mean we never get angry. Paul writes in Ephesians 4:26, “Be angry, and do not sin.” Righteous anger is real. The question is whether it is driven by impulse or guided by purpose. A reaction burns hot and burns everything. A response makes a whip first. It stops, thinks, prays, and then acts with intention.

    So when something stirs you up, ask yourself: Am I about to flip a table, or am I willing to braid the cords first?

    Now hear this next part carefully, because it is where many people get discouraged. Responding does not mean you are never afraid. A person who responds in faith is not someone who has escaped fear. It is someone who feels it fully and refuses to let it make the decision.

    David was a man of great faith, and he was also a man who knew terror. Hunted by Saul, surrounded by enemies, he wrote: “Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You” Psalm 56:3. Look at the order of those words. I am afraid. He doesn’t deny it. I will trust. He decides. Faith in that verse is not the absence of fear. It is the choice made in the middle of it.

    Elijah stood against 450 prophets of Baal and saw fire fall from heaven. Then one threat from Jezebel sent him running into the wilderness, begging to die. Even a man like that felt fear. And God did not scold him. He fed him, let him rest, and spoke to him in a still, small voice. God knows our frame.

    Even Jesus, in Gethsemane, was in such anguish that He sweat drops like blood. He asked if the cup could pass. Then He said, “nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.” Luke 22:42. Feeling the weight and choosing the Father anyway is the very heart of a faith response.

    This is also why God keeps saying, “Fear not.” He tells Joshua, “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid” Joshua 1:9. You don’t command someone to be courageous unless fear is a real possibility. Courage and faith were never meant to describe people without fear. They describe people who have fear and choose otherwise.

So how do we respond?

    Here is a simple pattern.

    First, pause. Even three seconds. Fear wants speed, and faith can afford to wait.

    Second, name the fear honestly. Tell God what you’re afraid of. Philippians 4:6-7 says to bring everything to Him in prayer with thanksgiving, and that His peace will guard our hearts and minds. Peace doesn’t come from pretending. It comes from handing it over.

    Third, choose. Ask yourself: What does faith do here? What would trusting God look like in this exact moment? Then do that, even if your hands are shaking. Especially if they are.

    And if you react anyway, and you will sometimes, remember that Peter’s story doesn’t end at the sinking. “Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand, and caught him.” Grace is there for the reaction, too, and it trains us toward the response.

    Reacting asks, “What do I feel?” and lets the answer rule. Responding asks, “What do I believe?” and lets that answer lead.

    Both people may be afraid. The difference is who gets the final word. Paul wrote, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7. A sound mind is a mind that can pause, trust, and choose.

    So while the election results come pouring in, whether your side wins or not, and we see the nation reacting, let’s pause and pray. Let us pray for those that are in fear. Let’s pray for those that are reacting. And let’s pray that we will take our petitions to God and choose faith.