If we genuinely believe that knowing Jesus is the greatest gift a person can receive, then an important question follows:
What is it like for someone who doesn’t yet know Jesus to encounter one of His followers?
Do they encounter grace, compassion, and genuine interest—even when we disagree about things that matter deeply?
Or do they leave feeling judged?
Christians are called to convictions that will inevitably put us at odds with some of the values and behaviors around us. Following Jesus does not mean redefining good and evil according to whatever our culture happens to affirm.
But holding a conviction and knowing how to treat someone who doesn’t share it are two very different things.
Jesus never compromised His holiness. He never pretended sin didn’t matter. And yet people whose lives were far from God wanted to be near Him.
That fascinates me.
Can we hold our convictions in a way that makes it easier for people to encounter Jesus rather than harder?
Throughout the Gospels, the Pharisees provide a sobering contrast. They cared deeply about faithfulness to God’s law, yet Jesus repeatedly confronted the ways their application of that law placed burdens on ordinary people and created barriers between people and God.
Their problem wasn’t that they cared about holiness.
Their problem was that, somewhere along the way, defending holiness could become more important than loving the people holiness was meant to draw toward God.
Some of Jesus’ strongest words, in fact, were reserved for religious leaders.
That ought to get our attention.
We don’t want to become people who are so committed to defending what is true that we fail to reflect the One who is Truth.
So what does Jesus actually show us?
How does He engage people—especially people who are “not living right”?
I think the answer begins with the Incarnation.
Jesus left heaven and entered our world—not as a conquering earthly king, but in humility. As Philippians 2 tells us, though He existed in the form of God, He did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited for His own advantage. Instead, He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant.
The Incarnation is an astonishing act of humility.
Jesus moved toward us.
He entered in.
He came near.
And perhaps that gives us a model for how we should engage the world around us as well:
Humility.
Sacrifice.
Listening.
Entering in.
Drawing near.
Call it building bridges with love.
Jesus crossed the distance between us. He entered our world, shared our humanity, and drew near to people in all their brokenness. His holiness did not require distance; it was expressed in the way He entered into people’s lives with both grace and truth.
What if we learned to do the same?
What if we didn’t compromise our convictions about sin, but instead of pushing people away, we drew near?
What if, instead of beginning by condemning someone’s lifestyle, we began by listening? By understanding who they are, what they have experienced, what they believe, what they fear, what they hope for, and what their journey has looked like?
Jesus shared tables with tax collectors and people considered notorious sinners by the religious establishment. His holiness was never threatened by His proximity to broken people.
Could we not do the same?
Could we build genuine friendships with people whose beliefs, choices, and lifestyles are contrary to our understanding of Scripture—not because we have abandoned conviction, but precisely because we want to follow Jesus?
Something remarkable happens in the Gospels: people on the margins were drawn to Jesus.
They wanted to be near Him.
And His nearness did not leave them unchanged.
Think of Zacchaeus. Jesus did not stand beneath the tree and shout a list of everything Zacchaeus had done wrong. He called him by name and invited Himself to his house. Relationship came before the transformation we subsequently see in Zacchaeus’ life.
Jesus’ acceptance of people was never an endorsement of everything they did. Neither was His holiness an excuse to remain distant from them.
He brought grace and truth together.
And now, as His followers, we carry His presence into the relationships around us. Scripture calls us Christ’s ambassadors. It describes us as temples of the Holy Spirit.
That means when we draw near to someone in genuine love, we bring something more than our opinions with us.
We bring the presence of Christ.
Our culture is increasingly defined by polarization. We’re told that disagreement requires distance. If we disagree deeply enough, apparently we can’t even be friends. If someone lives in a way another person considers wrong, civility itself can begin to feel optional.
What if the Church offered something radically different?
What if, rather than retreating from people outside our faith—or moving toward them primarily to correct them—we moved toward them with genuine love and compassion?
What if Christians became known as people who could hold deep convictions while offering equally deep kindness?
What if people who expected condemnation encountered hospitality instead?
The contrast alone might raise questions.
The presence of Christ within us might invite deeper investigation.
And, as Romans 2:4 reminds us, it is the kindness of God that leads us toward repentance.
That certainly reflects my own story.
I did not come to Jesus because someone despised me effectively enough. I came because I encountered grace.
And I suspect many followers of Jesus could say something similar.
We have been welcomed.
We have been forgiven.
We have been loved while still in desperate need of transformation.
We have received grace we could never earn.
Perhaps one of the most compelling ways we can introduce others to Jesus is simply to offer them the same grace we ourselves have received.
Not by abandoning truth.
Not by redefining holiness.
But by remembering how Jesus brought truth to us:
He came near.