If the Gospel Is Urgent, Why Are We So Quiet?

I often catch myself saying that the Gospel of Jesus is the most urgent, life-changing news in the world. I truly believe it is. If we’re talking about eternity—about hope for the hurting and salvation for the lost—what could possibly be more important or time-sensitive? And yet, if I’m honest, I don’t always live like it’s urgent. I proclaim with my lips that people desperately need Jesus, but my daily life sometimes tells a different story. Why is it that we say the Gospel is urgent, but we act like we can afford to put it on the back burner?

It’s a challenging question, and it challenges me first. I think about how many chances to share God’s love I’ve passed up because I was “too busy” or because I figured someone else would do it later. The Apostle Paul posed a convicting series of questions: “How can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?” (Romans 10:14). In other words, if we don’t speak and live out the truth, how will anyone hear it? We say we want the world to know Jesus—so why do we hurry through life focused on trivial things, while souls around us haven’t heard the Good News? If we really believe the Gospel matters more than anything, we should feel a weight, a sense of urgency to share it and show it. But what does that look like? Does urgency mean rushing around frantically, or something else entirely?

Not long ago, I discovered that living with Gospel urgency isn’t about moving faster—it’s about moving more intentionally, even if that means slowing down. The lesson came in the most unexpected way: on a themed “pajama day” at our children’s ministry. Picture a grown man dressed in a full-body sloth onesie, and you’ve got me, shuffling around with deliberate slowness and plenty of laughs from the kids. I wore it as a lighthearted costume, but in God’s providence that sloth outfit became a pointed object lesson. That morning I noticed one of our boys standing off to the side with a gloomy expression while other kids were giggling and having fun. Normally, I might have been darting between tasks—checking on volunteers, setting up snacks, keeping the schedule moving. But dressed as a giant sloth, I felt I had permission to slow down and truly see what was happening. I walked over and knelt down next to the little boy, asking gently if he was okay.

He shrugged and avoided eye contact. “I don’t know. I’m just get sad sometimes with no real reason.” Those words pierced my heart. I could see the heaviness on his face that a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to carry. I remembered feeling like that when I was his age—sad for no clear reason, just a cloud that wouldn’t go away. I put my arm around him and said, as softly as I could, “It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry, you know.” He looked up at me with big, wet eyes, as if testing whether I really meant it. So I said it again, “It’s okay to cry. I cry sometimes too.” We just sat there together against the wall, other kids running past in their pajamas while time seemed to slow to a crawl for us. I repeated that gentle truth a few more times: It’s okay to cry. At that, this little guy finally let go. He fell into my chest and began to sob. I just held him in a tight hug, and I could feel his tears soaking into my plush sloth costume. I’ll admit my own eyes were damp too. In that moment, it felt like God allowed me to comfort not only this child in front of me, but also the child I used to be—the younger me who had often needed a safe place to cry. It was a beautiful, sacred moment of healing for us both.

After he had let it all out, he gave me one of the biggest hugs I’ve ever received and a tiny smile crept back onto his face. That one brief pause in a busy morning meant the world to him—and to me. As I watched him rejoin the others to play, I sensed the Lord whisper to my heart, I would give you more of these moments if you chose to slow down. It was as if heaven gently tapped me on the shoulder. Here I was, dressed as the slowest animal on earth, learning a lesson about urgency. It struck me that God’s idea of “urgent” isn’t about rushing past people to get to the next thing. It’s about caring enough to stop. In fact, the Bible even tells us, “Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord” (Romans 12:11). Another translation bluntly warns not to be “slothful in zeal” (ESV) — yes, the word slothful is right there! The irony wasn’t lost on me. I had been running around in ministry, busy but maybe a bit slothful in the things that mattered. That day, God used a sloth costume and a tearful child to show me that true zeal for the Gospel sometimes looks like slowing down enough to love someone. My passion for Jesus must be accompanied by compassion for individuals, or else all my talk of urgency is just talk.

Standing up from that holy moment, I couldn’t help but think of how Jesus Himself lived this out. Jesus was on the most urgent mission in history — bringing salvation to the world — yet He never behaved like a frantic salesman trying to hit a quota. He took His time with people. In the Gospels, Jesus was often interrupted by individuals in need, and He always made time for them. For example, in Mark 10, as He was leaving Jericho, a blind beggar named Bartimaeus began to cry out for mercy: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (Mark 10:46-52). The crowd around Jesus tried to hush the man and push forward; after all, they were on a journey and Jesus had important places to go. But Jesus did the opposite of what everyone expected—He stopped. He heard the cry of a hurting person and halted the whole procession for one blind beggar. “Call him here,” Jesus said. Only after spending time face-to-face with Bartimaeus, healing him and restoring his sight, did Jesus continue on His way. Our Lord never saw it as a waste of time to help a single suffering person. The urgent journey could wait for love to do its work.

Another day, Jesus took an even bigger detour for the sake of one troubled soul. John 4 tells how Jesus was traveling and “had to go through Samaria” — a region most Jews avoided. Why did He have to? Because there was a woman at a well in Samaria who needed someone to slow down and talk with her. Jesus sat by that well at midday and struck up a conversation with a Samaritan woman who was steeped in shame and loneliness. He spoke kindly with her, revealing her deepest hurts and offering her “living water” for her thirsty soul (John 4). This personal, unrushed conversation led to her running back to town joyfully, telling everyone about the Messiah she had met. An entire village came to hear Jesus because He took time for one broken person. Think about that: the Savior of the world, on a tight schedule to redeem humanity, made time to have a long talk with an outcast woman. That’s the heart of our God.

And consider Zacchaeus in Luke 19. Jesus was passing through Jericho surrounded by crowds. Zacchaeus, a despised tax collector, had climbed a sycamore tree just to get a glimpse of Jesus. Many people would have ignored this quirky little man in a tree—after all, Jesus had sermons to preach and miracles to do, right? But once again Jesus stopped for the one. He looked up, called Zacchaeus by name, and essentially said, “I’m coming over to your house for lunch” (see Luke 19:1-10). That simple act of personal attention changed Zacchaeus’s life. By the end of the visit, Zacchaeus was repenting of his wrongs and joyfully pledging to make amends. Jesus summed up the whole encounter by declaring, “The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). There’s Jesus’ urgency on full display: seeking out one lost person at a time. He didn’t rush past Jericho; He sought out the lost in Jericho. Christ’s example shows that real urgency is expressed in love-driven action, not in rushing by. He had only three years of public ministry, yet He never failed to notice the individual in need right in front of Him. What a lesson for us!

Seeing how Jesus lived makes me reflect on my own priorities. If Jesus could slow down for a hurting child or a blind man or a social outcast, what excuse do I have? He embodied both the urgency of His mission and the patience of love. In my life, I often err on one side or the other. Either I’m so “urgent” about my agenda that I blow past people who need love, or I’m so “patient” (read: complacent) that I never get around to sharing the hope of Christ at all. But Jesus shows a better way: an urgency fueled by compassion. He calls us to love sincerely, the way Romans 12:9 urges: “Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” That sincere love means we genuinely care about people’s hearts and burdens, not just our plans. The same chapter of Scripture tells us, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15). In other words, slow down enough to enter into someone else’s joy or pain. That’s where real ministry happens—in those unplanned, wholehearted moments of empathy.

I had another chance to practice this not long after the “sloth day.” One Sunday, I noticed a normally bubbly little girl who looked downright dejected. She was sitting off to the side and frowning while the other kids were lining up for small group time. I crouched down and gently asked her what was wrong. With a dramatic sigh, she said, “I’m sad because I haven’t seen my friend in ten years.” Ten years? She was only six! Her answer made me pause, then almost smile, realizing her concept of time was a bit…creative. “Ten years? Really?” I echoed. She pouted and insisted, “Yes, ten whole years.” Eventually I discovered the truth: her little best friend had moved away earlier that year. In a six-year-old’s mind, it might as well have been forever. Her heart was genuinely hurting from missing her friend.

Sitting with her I reminded her that it’s okay to be sad and told her that I got sad sometimes when I didn’t get to see my best friend all the time. I also let her know that for me, it is helpful to be around people when I am sad, even when I think I want to be alone. She looked at me and asked if I wanted to play rock, paper, scissors. She then said “whoever wins gets to decide what we do for the next year.” In her mind, a year was an eternity. Long story short I not only beat her once in rock, paper, scissors, but I beat her 10 times. I then told her “alright, you know what you have to do for a year now? Eat gummy worms for breakfast every day!” She quickly responded with “EWWW!” We both laughed and she looked at me and said “I think I want to go to group now.”

That day, I watched her participate with more enthusiasm than I’d ever seen from her before. She raised her hand to answer questions, partnered eagerly with another girl for the activity, and even offered to pray at the end—something she had never volunteered to do. My heart just about melted. All it took was a few minutes of noticing her pain and encouraging her, and it made a tangible difference in her ability to engage. I was reminded again of how powerful simple presence and encouragement can be. A little extra patience on my part led to this beautiful breakthrough for her. And truth be told, it blessed me probably as much as it blessed her.

Moments like that underscore what it means to live out the Gospel we preach. The good news of Jesus isn’t only meant to be proclaimed from a pulpit; it’s meant to be demonstrated in love at ground level, person to person. Yes, the Gospel is words—truth that must be shared because “faith comes from hearing” (Romans 10:17). But those words are so much more powerful when they’re backed up by our actions and attitude. It’s said often because it’s true: people don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care. I can teach Bible stories to kids every week, but what will they remember most? Likely the day a caring adult noticed their sadness and sat with them, or the day someone made them laugh when they felt lonely. Those are the moments that build trust and open hearts. And when a heart is open, the seed of the Gospel can take root deeply.

I’m slowly learning that acting like the Gospel is urgent means making every moment count—especially the small, quiet ones. It means I can’t just breeze by the hurting coworker, or the struggling neighbor, or even my own family member who needs a listening ear. If I truly believe Jesus is the hope of the world, I have to bring that hope to people intentionally. Sometimes that will be through boldness: speaking about Jesus directly, sharing my testimony, inviting someone to trust Him. Other times, it will be through the quieter work of love: sitting with someone in their pain, lending a hand, being a friend. Ideally, it’s both together. The urgency of the Gospel compels us to speak up and not be ashamed of the truth, and at the same time to show up in people’s lives with genuine care.

The disconnect between what we say and what we do can be bridged by this kind of intentional living. We proclaim a Savior who meets us where we are—so we, in His name, must meet others where they are. We preach a message of love and repentance—so we must love people and humbly walk with them toward God. We insist Jesus is the answer—so our lives should reflect His compassion and grace, not a hurried indifference. Romans 12:10 says, “Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.” That, to me, sounds like a call to slow down and put others first, which is exactly what Jesus did. And Romans 12:11 reminds us not to lose our fervor. So it’s a balance: a fervent drive to serve the Lord and an intentional patience to love people well.

I ask myself, What would my life look like if I really acted like the Gospel is as urgent as I say it is? For one, I suspect I’d pray a lot more fervently for the people in my life who don’t know Christ. I wouldn’t just say “there’s always tomorrow” when it comes to reaching out—I’d make the call, send the message, start the conversation today, because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I would prioritize relationships over routines. I’d be quicker to apologize, quicker to forgive, and bolder in offering to pray with someone. Essentially, I would live with a keen awareness that eternity is at stake and that every person I meet is someone Jesus died for. And I would remember that sometimes the most urgent kingdom work looks like a person in a sloth costume whispering “It’s okay to cry” to a little boy, or a few minutes of paper-rock-scissors with a lonely child. Small acts of love can have eternal impact.

Friend, the Gospel truly is urgent. People around us every day are hurting, searching, and in need of the hope we carry. God invites us to join Him in the urgent mission of making disciples, but He also reminds us that this mission is accomplished one precious person at a time. If we choose to slow down and open our eyes, we’ll find those holy opportunities everywhere—in our homes, our workplaces, our schools, our churches. I believe God is whispering to all of us, as He did to me, that He’ll give us more of these moments if we’re willing to pay attention. So let’s not just profess the importance of the Gospel; let’s live like it’s truly important. Let’s seize the moment when the Holy Spirit prompts us to speak truth or show love. Let’s be the “someone” in Romans 10:14 who will preach (or teach, or simply tell) so that others can hear and believe. And as we do, let’s also be the one who will weep with those who weep, who will stop on the roadside with Jesus to help the hurting, who will take the detour to reach the lonely.

My prayer for myself and for you is that our faith moves from mere words into Spirit-empowered action. May we have Christ’s urgency in our hearts and Christ’s compassion in our eyes. The Gospel is too good and too important to keep to ourselves or to live half-heartedly. Time is short and eternity is long. Let’s act like it. Let’s love like it. God will handle the results—our job is simply to be faithful and truly care. If we do that, I suspect we’ll experience more incredible moments where heaven meets earth in the form of a healing conversation or a shared tear. Those are the moments when the Gospel isn’t just spoken about, but actually seen in action. And that might be what ultimately draws a soul to Jesus. So yes, the Gospel is urgent—now, by God’s grace, let’s go out and live like we believe it.