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If you could ask someone just one question, and know that he or she could answer that question, what would it be?

by Dennis Anderson

I’ve been putting this question to people I bump into aboard planes, trains and automobiles. But mostly I ask students, usually students I don’t know. And I usually do it in the presence of InterVarsity students to help them see that boldness in witness can be fun—a stimulating as well as an intriguing entree into a deeper conversation.

I use “the question” in two contexts. First, it’s a great question to ask someone who’s seated next to you on a bus or plane. After a moderate amount of small talk (where I ascertain whether this person is up for additional conversation), I say something like, “I have a question for you. Feel free not to answer it but it’s a question that I like to ask people I meet, and I usually find their responses intriguing.” This approach does several things. It lets people off the hook if they don’t want to answer it. No one has ever declined, but simply stating that they have freedom not to respond tells them something about me: I’m not pushy. I take their feelings seriously. Another thing it does is tap into their natural curiosity. It’s almost like a secret, and who doesn’t want to get in on a secret? And it lets them know that I’m not specifically buttonholing them. I try to communicate an attitude of “It’s no big deal; I ask people this question all the time.” I intentionally leave the word ‘God’ out of the question and wait for them to go there if they’re so inclined.

The second context in which I use this question is when I’m meeting with a student and our agenda together is to develop our witness heart, boldness and skill. Since we usually meet in the student center, there are lots of other students in close proximity. At some point in the conversation, I’ll lean back on my chair, “interrupt” the students at the next table and say something like, “Excuse me, my friend and I have been mulling over a question that we’d like some others’ input on. You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to but I think you’ll find it interesting.” The response at this point is usually a somewhat guarded curiosity. They seem intrigued enough to want to hear the question but also wonder if we’re for real or if we’re trying to sell them something. Again, leaving the word ‘God’ out of the question keeps the internal security system on delay, at least for the time being. Then I ask the question and listen to their responses—even write them down sometimes. If they really want to talk and find the question stimulating, lots of good things can happen at this point. I can ask what kind of answer they’ve come up with so far. Sometimes they’ll turn the question back on me. Sometimes, it’s a chance for us to help deepen their conversations with one another long after we part company.

Get others involved

After I’ve demonstrated that a significant conversation can occur in a matter of minutes, I turn to the person I’m meeting with and say, “Okay, now that you’ve seen me do it, it’s your turn.” Blank stares. A little gulping. Nervous twitching. Some stuttering. (Funny how personal habits which have never been displayed suddenly emerge.) All become borderline neurotic at this point in the conversation. “Me?” “Now?” “Like right now?” “Dude!” I calmly reassert, “It’s no big deal. You can talk to people. I mean, what’s the worst thing that can happen? They won’t want to talk to you. . . . Here, practice what you’re going to say on me first.” We don’t learn to be bold by merely talking and praying about boldness.

A couple of years ago, Jill, the witness coordinator at Colorado State University, and I decided to hold each other accountable to ask this question of at least five people each week. We would report our findings when we met each week and pray for those who seemed interested in further conversations. We asked people we knew and people we didn’t know at all. And if we didn’t have our five by the time we got together, we would lean back in our chairs and say to the students at the adjacent table, “Excuse me, my friend and I . . .”

Jill also drew a map of her dorm floor and listed all the women’s names along with notes about conversations they’d had and what she discovered about that person’s spiritual interest. I did the same for my neighborhood. When we met, we’d pray for opportunities for significant relationship and conversation. By the end of the semester, both of us were blown away by the number of relational and conversational encounters we had. It’s almost as if God was just waiting for us to ask to be used in a meaningful way. We didn’t always use the question because it’s just a tool. But because we were out there and available, God used us. Some of my best conversations were with neighbors who at first didn’t seem to have the remotest interest in God.

Ways people respond

Here are some of the responses we got throughout the semester.

What is going to happen to me when I die?” This response came from a woman serving coffee in the Ramskellar. She didn’t even have to think about it. Her response seemed to be floating on the surface of her soul. Before our conversation was interrupted by another customer, she told me that she was Jewish, had learned Hebrew and done “all of that” but had pitched it. “I guess I’m agnostic and very skeptical,” she said. I proposed that the only one who could answer her question with any degree of credibility was someone who had “been there” (experienced death) and “done that” (come back to tell about it).

About 30 percent of people I talk to respond with a question about God or the afterlife:

“Oh, this is a God question.”

“I’d like to know who the real God is.”

“Is there a God or not?”

“What is at the end of the universe or does it go on and on?”

About half the time, students respond with a question that has to do with blatantly spiritual issues. Twice, this past year, I have had conversations that led to opportunities to explain how to have a vital relationship with the God who is there. One woman told me (after a two-hour conversation in which I prayed for her—yes, out loud!) that she had been dying to have this conversation with someone and that she had told me things that hadn’t been talked about in years. When God is at work, people respond. In the right context, God can use this can-opener question to be a heart opener.

Another cluster of questions I hear have to do with purpose and meaning:

“I’d like to know who I’m going to work for when I graduate.” That was an odd response, but when I pressed this student about whether this was the most significant question in his soul, he said that yes, honestly this was it.

“What will I regret at the end of my life?”

“What is the purpose of my life?”

Whenever a person asks a purpose-type question, I follow up with “How often do you think about that issue?” I want to know if it’s a whimsical question or something that they lie awake at night thinking about. The usual response is that they think about that question every day (often several times each day).

The last group of questions I get are more relational in nature:

“I’d like to know who I’m going to marry.” (Surprisingly few ask this question.)

“What is a truly selfless act? How do I know the difference between selfish and selfless?”

“How do I know who the real me is?”

These questions are not so much philosophical as they are revealing to the discerning listener. I wondered if the student who wanted to know “the real me” struggled with issues of identity and self-confidence—a readily accessible bridge to the gospel. A question about marriage may be masking deeper questions such as, “Will anyone ever love me? Am I lovable? Would anyone ever want me if they knew the things I’ve done?” This is another window into the soul and a potential bridge to the gospel.

 
Some Ways to Use the Question
Some Ways to
Use the
Question

 

 

Bible expositor and author John Stott has said there are three basic human needs: the need for transcendence (questions of immortality), the need for significance (meaning and purpose) and the need for relationship. The responses to my question bear that out. Steve Sellers, National Campus Director for Campus Crusade, says that “if we can’t figure out how to make Jesus applicable to a generation that wants authenticity, that seeks strong friendships and who, by their own definition, are hurting, then something is wrong with us.” The bridges are there—in all human hearts. We just have to find them and walk on across. My question is a way of discovering the bridges.

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Dennis Anderson is currently the pastor of adult ministries at Crossroads Church in Loveland, Colorado--a church that regularly gets people to ask this question. He still fishes for people and for fish.

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