Visiting with people at Einstein's Bagels helps me understand the challenges that my Christian brothers and sisters have in sharing their faith. It was there, for example, that it dawned on me that the biggest hindrance for a lot of us in sharing Christ is not that we don't know how, but that we don't see a natural and gracious opportunity. I've rarely had a natural chance to speak of the gospel. Seeing that changed how I pray. Now I teach people to pray for open doors to show and share the love of Christ. I realized, too, that evangelism is a lot slower process than I used to think—that it often happens in baby steps, and gently.

I met a woman I'll call Barb who told me that, although she was Jewish by birth, she was very interested in Christianity. "I guess you could say I'm a seeker," she said, to my surprise. I prayed for her regularly, and one day we started talking about the gospel. She was fascinated and curious. I discovered that the friend she was eating with was a strong Christian, and Barb had heard the gospel several times. She was agreeing with things that I said but was noncommittal. I said: "You know, Barb, someday you're going to have to make a choice. You can't be neutral about Christ forever." To my shock, she suddenly became very agitated and teary, even angry. She grabbed her things and ran out. After playing that tape back in my mind a few times to see if I had been out of line, I decided I had just seen the "offense of the gospel" at work.

Another morning I struck up a conversation with a young man who always wore black pants and a white shirt and carried a backpack full of self-help books, some in a foreign language. One day I broke the ice: "I see you like to read," I said. I found he was eager to talk. His name, I eventually learned, was Dimitrij, and he was a waiter at a nearby restaurant. The second time we talked, out of the blue he asked me if he could visit my church. The very next Sunday he and his girlfriend were in church, and a guest speaker shared the gospel. Dimitrij raised his hand when I gave an invitation. We met several times over coffee till that interest in Jesus blossomed into faith.

Every now and then I'd see a fellow I'll call Jim. He's a dentist, and I learned that he has a son who is an evangelical missionary. Jim is a sweet and generous guy, and I enjoyed talking with him. I invited him to church a few times, but nothing happened. Then one morning while we were filling our cups, he told me that he had made a New Year's promise to his son to go to church. "I'm preaching this Sunday about the Good Shepherd and lost sheep," I told him casually.

He froze, coffee cup half-filled, and just looked at me. "Are you kidding?" he asked. When I assured him that I wasn't kidding, he said "I'll be there." And he was.