Christ the Evangelist
John 4; 11 · Matthew 22 · Acts 26
G.R. Sterling
The Gospels preserve more than the words of Christ. They preserve His delivery. Men heard His words — but Christ read their hearts before He ever spoke.
The truth never changed from one conversation to the next. The heart standing in front of Him did.
Some who came to Him were broken. Others were proud. Some were hungry for truth. Others were hunting for a trap. Christ knew the difference every time, and He never wasted a word on the wrong need.
Officers were once sent to arrest Him. They came back empty-handed. Asked why, they had only one answer: “Never man spake like this man” (John 7:46).
Every disciple should study not only what Christ said, but how He said it. This study follows that pattern through a woman at a well, a room full of Pharisees, a king in chains, a dead man’s grave, and a cross — to see how the greatest Evangelist who ever lived exposed the heart, and offered it freedom.
The woman of Samaria came to Jacob’s well for water. Nothing more.
Jesus began with a simple request: “Give me to drink” (John 4:7). Four words opened the door. Soon the well was no longer the subject. Her thirst was. “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst” (John 4:13–14). She thought of water. Christ spoke of life. Her body was thirsty. Her soul even more.
Then came the turn. “Go, call thy husband, and come hither” (John 4:16). She answered, “I have no husband.” True. But not the whole truth. Jesus replied, “Thou hast well said, I have no husband: for thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband” (John 4:17–18). No long rebuke. No public shame. Just truth — clean, exact, impossible to escape.
At first she saw a Jew. Then she called Him Sir. Then a prophet. At last she spoke of the Messiah. “I know that Messias cometh, which is called Christ” (John 4:25). Jesus answered, “I that speak unto thee am he” (John 4:26). Plain words. No riddle. No hidden meaning. “I am He.”
Why speak so directly to her? Her life was broken, but her heart was open. The Pharisees knew far more Scripture. Yet Christ spoke more plainly to this woman. The difference was not knowledge. The difference was the heart. She came with an empty waterpot. They came full of themselves.
The woman left her waterpot and went into the city. She had found more than water. “Come, see a man, which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?” (John 4:29). Christ showed her two things: who she was, and who He was. That is where evangelism begins.
A man who does not know he is thirsty will not seek living water. A man who does not know he is lost will not seek the way home. A man who does not know he is bound will not ask to be free. Christ began where she was. Then led her where she needed to be. That is wisdom.
The Pharisees stood before the same Christ, but with different hearts. They knew the Law. They knew the prophets. They knew the promise of the Messiah. Yet many came not to learn, but to trap Him.
Christ gave them a question. “What think ye of Christ? whose son is he?” (Matthew 22:42). They answered, “The Son of David.” Correct. But not complete. They knew the Messiah would come through David. They did not understand that David’s son was also David’s Lord.
Jesus asked, “How then doth David in spirit call him Lord?” (Matthew 22:43), then quoted Psalm 110: “The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit thou on my right hand, till I make thine enemies thy footstool” (Matthew 22:44). Notice the words — “David in spirit.” Mark makes it even clearer: “David himself said by the Holy Ghost” (Mark 12:36). God spoke. David wrote.
Then came the question: “If David then call him Lord, how is he his son?” (Matthew 22:45). No escape. If the Messiah was only a man, why did David call Him Lord? If David spoke by the Holy Spirit, how could they reject his words? If the Messiah was David’s Lord, who stood before them? Jesus did not say it. He did not need to. The truth stood. “And no man was able to answer him a word” (Matthew 22:46). Not because the question was unclear — the answer cost too much. To accept it, they had to bow. They would not.
Christ often asked questions when He already knew the answer. Not to learn. To reveal. “Whom say ye that I am?” (Matthew 16:15). “Wilt thou be made whole?” (John 5:6). “Why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?” (Luke 6:46). “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36). “Lovest thou me?” (John 21:17). Each question reached past the words and into the heart. A statement may remain outside a man. A question enters.
“What think ye of Christ?” That question still stands. What do you think of Him? Not your church. Not your family. Not your teacher. You. Who is He? What right does He have over your life? Sooner or later, every man must answer.
Christ used prophecy to reveal who He was. David had called the Messiah his Lord. Christ placed that prophecy before the Pharisees and let the words speak. The same pattern runs through His ministry. He read from Isaiah in the synagogue, then said, “This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears” (Luke 4:21). He spoke of the stone the builders rejected. He spoke of Jonah. He spoke of Moses lifting the serpent in the wilderness. Again and again, Christ showed that the Scriptures pointed to Him.
Prophecy did not begin in the mind of man. Peter wrote, “For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost” (2 Peter 1:21). God spoke. Men wrote. That is why prophecy matters. A man can write about yesterday. He can report today. He can guess tomorrow. But he cannot name events hundreds of years before they happen, then make history obey his words. God can. “Declaring the end from the beginning” (Isaiah 46:10). “Before they spring forth I tell you of them” (Isaiah 42:9).
Jesus gave the reason: “And now I have told you before it come to pass, that, when it is come to pass, ye might believe” (John 14:29). First the word. Then the wait. Years pass. Kings die. Nations rise. Nations fall. The word remains. Then the event comes. History meets prophecy — different writers, different times, different places, one message. Christ. No human hand planned it across the centuries. One Author stood behind it all. Prophecy is His signature.
Place prophecy in a courtroom. Was it written before the event? Was it clear enough to test? Did the event happen as foretold? Could those involved control the details? Could chance explain it all? One fact may be brushed aside. A second called luck. But when fact joins fact, the case grows.
His family line was foretold before His birth. Bethlehem was named before Mary and Joseph went there. His forerunner was promised. His rejection, betrayal, suffering, death, and resurrection were foretold. A man may choose to ride into a city on a donkey. He cannot choose where he is born. He cannot control the hatred of his enemies. He cannot force soldiers to cast lots for his clothes. No man can enter the grave and return by human power.
The evidence builds. Witness joins witness. Prophecy meets fulfillment. God spoke before the events. Then the events came. Prophecy proves the source. It also points to Christ. That is why prophecy belongs in evangelism — it does more than defend the Bible. It brings the hearer face to face with the One the Bible foretold. Prophecy exposes the truth. What the hearer does with that truth exposes the heart.
The words of the prophets were also joined by works no man could perform. Lazarus had been dead four days. His sisters knew. The mourners knew. The village knew. When Jesus told them to remove the stone, Martha answered, “Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days” (John 11:39). No doubt remained about the grave.
Before raising Lazarus, Christ spoke to His Father, and gave the reason for speaking aloud: “Because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that thou hast sent me” (John 11:42). There was the purpose — that they might believe. Then Jesus cried, “Lazarus, come forth” (John 11:43). Lazarus came out. The dead man walked. No rumor. No distant witness. No uncertain report. Lazarus stood before them alive.
Some believed. Others went to the Pharisees. Same miracle. Different hearts. The Pharisees gathered and said, “What do we? for this man doeth many miracles” (John 11:47). They did not deny the miracle. They admitted it. Then planned to kill Christ. Why? They feared losing their place. Power mattered more than truth. Position more than God. Lazarus stood alive. Still they would not bow. Later, they planned to kill Lazarus too — because a living Lazarus was living proof.
The hardened heart does not always reject truth because it cannot see. Sometimes it rejects truth because it sees too clearly. Jesus said, “Light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light” (John 3:19). The light did not fail. They loved the dark. Christ placed life before their eyes. The miracle preached. Lazarus testified. The heart answered.
The disciples later followed the same pattern. They used prophecy, testimony, questions, and the resurrection to bring men face to face with Christ. Paul did exactly that before a king.
Paul stood before King Agrippa as a prisoner. The king sat in power. Paul stood in chains. Before the hearing ended, another chain appeared. Paul told Agrippa who he had been — he had hated Christians, hunted them, and put them in prison. Then he met the risen Christ. Everything changed.
Paul told the king that his message agreed with Moses and the prophets. Christ would suffer. Christ would rise. Light would go to Israel and the Gentiles. Festus said Paul was mad. Paul answered, “I am not mad, most noble Festus; but speak forth the words of truth and soberness” (Acts 26:25). Then he turned to Agrippa. “King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest” (Acts 26:27). The question pulled the king into the case. If Agrippa believed the prophets, what would he do with Christ?
Agrippa replied, “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian” (Acts 26:28). Almost. He did not answer the evidence. He did not disprove Paul. He stepped back. Paul replied, “I would to God, that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as I am, except these bonds” (Acts 26:29). Paul wanted more than a win. He wanted Agrippa free. That is evangelism — not beating a man in an argument, but bringing him to Christ.
Agrippa was almost persuaded. But almost free is still bound. Why could a king hear the prophets, feel the weight of the evidence, and still step back? Christ had already given the answer. Sin is slavery.
Jesus said, “Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin” (John 8:34). Sin is a master. It does not arrive wearing chains. It comes offering pleasure. Pleasure becomes habit. Habit becomes control. Control becomes slavery.
This bondage reaches back to the fall: “By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men” (Romans 5:12). All men are born under sin and death. “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). No one escapes — rich or poor, learned or unlearned, religious or worldly. All have sinned. All are born into bondage. Some know it. Many do not.
Sin blinds the mind, bends the will, and teaches the slave to love the cell. Paul wrote of those “in whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not” (2 Corinthians 4:4). The slave may not see the chain. That is why men can refuse freedom. Jesus offered freedom in John 8. They answered, “We were never in bondage to any man” (John 8:33). Slaves who could not see the chain.
The offer of freedom offended them because it told them the truth. Chains also become familiar. The prison may be painful, but it is known. Freedom calls the slave to leave. To trust. To walk out. Sin hides the chains by changing their names — lust calls itself love, greed calls itself drive, pride calls itself confidence, rebellion calls itself freedom. The prison is cleaned. The walls painted. The slave calls it home.
Christ did not offer men a better cell. He offered freedom. Yet freedom requires more than new habits. The slave does not need a fresh coat of paint. He needs a new life.
Nicodemus came to Jesus by night. He was a ruler of the Jews, a teacher, a religious man. He began by speaking of the miracles of Christ: “Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him” (John 3:2). Nicodemus saw the evidence. Jesus went straight to his need: “Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3). Nicodemus had religion. He needed life.
He had knowledge. He needed birth. He could not enter the kingdom by improving the life he already had — that life came through Adam and stood under sin and death. A new life had to begin. Jesus said, “That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit” (John 3:6). Flesh can produce only flesh. Education cannot produce spiritual life. Religion cannot produce it. Good works cannot produce it. A dead man cannot train himself into life. God must give the life.
“Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again” (John 3:7). Not a suggestion. A necessity. “Ye must.” Evangelism is not making bad men behave better. It calls dead men to life. The evangelist bears witness. The Spirit gives the life.
The rich young ruler came asking about eternal life. Young. Powerful. Rich. Moral. From the outside, free. Jesus looked at him and loved him, then said, “Go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor… and come, take up the cross, and follow me” (Mark 10:21). Jesus was not saying money could buy eternal life. He was showing what owned the man. The young ruler had riches. His riches had him.
What is eternal life worth to you? Will you give up what you can hold for what only God can give? Will you leave your treasure and follow the One who gives life? The man went away sad, “for he had great possessions” (Mark 10:22). He could leave Christ. He could not leave his money. That is slavery. Chains of gold. Gold still binds — a chain does not stop being a chain because it shines.
The young ruler wanted eternal life, but he wanted his old life too. Christ would not be added to the life he already ruled. Christ had to become Lord. The ruler walked away because his treasure ruled him. Others refused for different reasons. But beneath every refusal stood the same truth: God had spoken. Man would not bow.
The evidence had been given. The prophets had spoken. The miracles had been done. The dead had been raised. The truth had stood before them. Still, many would not bow.
Paul wrote, “That which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them” (Romans 1:19). Creation speaks. The heavens speak. Life speaks. God left witnesses everywhere. Paul says men are “without excuse” (Romans 1:20) — why? “Because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful” (Romans 1:21). They knew, but would not worship. They saw, but would not bow. The problem was not lack of truth. The problem was what truth required. To know God is to face His right to rule. That is what the heart resists.
Satan and his angels know God is real. They know Christ has authority. The demons cried, “I know thee who thou art, the Holy One of God” (Mark 1:24). No confusion. Rebellion. James wrote, “The devils also believe, and tremble” (James 2:19). They believe. They know. They tremble. Yet they will not worship. Knowledge without surrender is still rebellion.
Paul brings the whole world under the same verdict: “That every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God” (Romans 3:19). Every mouth stopped. Every excuse gone. They knew. They saw. They heard. Still they would not bow. Not without truth. Without excuse. The verdict falls. Then comes the Gospel.
Jesus said, “Whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it” (Matthew 16:25). The meaning is clear — give Me your life; I will give you eternal life. “The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 6:23). We bring a life stained by sin. Christ gives a life death cannot touch. We bring guilt; He gives pardon. We bring chains; He gives freedom. We bring death; He gives resurrection.
A life for a life. Not an equal trade. We give ruin. He gives glory. Christ asks for our life. He first gave His own. “The Son of man came… to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). The rich young ruler would not give up his wealth. Christ was already on His way to give up His life. He asks for all because He gave all. The cross proves it. But the cross was not the end — had the grave held Him, death would still have the final word. The grave could not hold Him.
When religious leaders demanded another sign, Jesus answered, “There shall no sign be given to it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas” (Matthew 12:39), then explained, “As Jonas was three days and three nights in the whale’s belly; so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth” (Matthew 12:40). His resurrection would be the great sign.
Early in His ministry, Christ had also said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up” (John 2:19). They thought He spoke of the temple in Jerusalem. He spoke of His body. Later He said, “I lay down my life, that I might take it again” (John 10:17). Then came words no ordinary man could speak: “I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again” (John 10:18). Christ did not stumble into death. He laid down His life.
Lazarus was raised, but Lazarus would die again. Christ rose beyond the reach of death. The stone was rolled away. The tomb stood empty. The One who gave His life took it back. The cross paid the price. The resurrection proved the victory. Christ did not merely promise life after death. He walked out of the grave.
Jesus said, “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). Later, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Truth is not only a teaching. Truth is a Person. To know truth is to know Christ. To receive truth is to receive Christ. To reject truth is to reject Christ.
Jesus then said, “If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed” (John 8:36). The truth makes free. The Son makes free. Christ is the Truth who sets the slave free — free from sin, free from guilt, free from Satan’s lies, free from condemnation, free from the grave, free from death itself.
Christ does not make the prison more comfortable. He opens the door. The dead need more than comfort. He gives life. He does not point to a map. He is the Way. Truth is not merely something He speaks. He is the Truth. Life is not merely something He promises. He is the Life.
When Christ looked upon the multitudes, He did not see arguments to win. He saw lost people. “But when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). Under all of it lies one truth: “God is love” (1 John 4:8). Why did Christ come, seek the lost, warn men, expose sin, and finally die? Every answer is the same one word: love.
“God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). The cross shows two things — how terrible sin is, and how great God’s love is. Sin so deep Christ had to die. Love so great Christ chose to die.
The Gospel says: you are guilty. Then: you are loved. You are a slave. Then: the Son came to make you free. Give your life to Christ. Then look at the cross. Christ gave His life for you. The cost is real. So is the love.
Jesus said, “No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him” (John 6:44). God uses creation, conscience, Scripture, prophecy, truth, and mercy. Above all, He draws men through Christ. “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me” (John 12:32).
The cross shows the heart of God. The One we sinned against came to save us. The Judge bore our sentence. The King became a servant. The Lord became flesh. Life entered death. Love came looking for the lost. “We love him, because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). The first move was His. The first gift was His. The first sacrifice was His. What draws a man to God? Love… revealed in Christ.
Evidence alone is not the end of evangelism. The hearer must answer. Jesus began His preaching with a call: “Repent ye, and believe the gospel” (Mark 1:15). Repent — turn from the old master. Believe — trust the One who came to save. Follow — leave the old life behind.
The call is not to admire Christ. Not to study Him from a distance. Not to remain almost persuaded. The call is to come. Repentance turns from sin. Faith turns to Christ. A man cannot cling to his chains and walk through the open door. He cannot keep the old master and call Christ Lord.
The disciples left their nets. Zacchaeus opened his house and his hands. Paul rose from the road to Damascus a different man. The rich young ruler walked away. Each heart answered. Evangelism brings the hearer to that moment. What will you do with Christ?
Christ did not teach His disciples to keep the Gospel to themselves. He sent them. “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature” (Mark 16:15). And again, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations” (Matthew 28:19). The One who came to seek the lost sent His disciples to seek them too. But they would not go alone. “Ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me” (Acts 1:8). Christ gave the mission. The Holy Spirit gave the power.
The disciples were not sent to create their own message. They were witnesses — to speak what they had seen, preach what Christ had done, use the Scriptures, call men to repent, point them to the cross, proclaim the resurrection, then trust the Spirit to give life. Christ showed them the work. Then sent them to continue it.
Christ showed His disciples how to evangelize. Tell the truth, but know the heart before you. Use Scripture. Ask the question that reaches the conscience. Present the evidence. Expose false freedom. Reveal the need for a new birth. Do not hide the cost. Do not hide the love. Call for repentance. Call for faith. Do not win the argument and lose the man.
The woman at the well needed living water. The Pharisees needed pride exposed. Nicodemus needed a new birth. Agrippa needed to face the prophets. The rich young ruler needed to see his chains. Different hearts. Same truth. Different delivery. That is wisdom.
Evangelism is not a sales pitch. Not pressure. Not clever talk. It brings a soul face to face with Christ. The evidence speaks. The truth stands. The chains are seen. The door opens. Then comes the question: What think ye of Christ?
Some walk away. Some remain almost persuaded. Some defend the prison. Some choose the dark. Others see the truth. They see the cross. They see the empty tomb. They see the love of God. They repent. They believe. They leave their chains. They come to Christ. They know the Truth. And the Son makes them free indeed.