For This House
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
November 3, 2025 | 6 min read
Lauren Van Woerden
I was just trying to keep to myself sane in my normal state of overstimulated motherhood, having solo-parented for three days straight, when a grandmother—a young one, mind you—of three young boys started chatting my ear off about really anything she could find to relate to. “Her boys” were off across the park, and my two younger boys were each vying for my attention at every break in conversation.
We talked about the usual things: kids, weather, the chaos of keeping up with little ones. Then the conversation took a deeper turn. She shared that she’d lost her husband last year. I empathized, but she quickly reassured me. “Oh, it’s okay. I’m okay. I know where he is and it’s all just right.”
Something in the way she said it made me ask, “You must be a believer?”
Her face lit up. “Yes! Are you?”
That’s when I learned something that stopped me in my tracks: she had initiated our entire conversation with the intention of witnessing to me. She was even prepared with a leaflet from her church to encourage me to dig deeper after we talked.
Here’s what hit me—nothing about my vibe said “Jesus follower” to this woman.
I didn’t share it with her at the time, but this was a true wake-up call for me. Later that day, reflecting on our exchange, I got to experience the impression others must get from me. And I did not like what I saw.
What is my life? What is my impact? What is my legacy? If not to be a witness pointing to Christ in all I do?
In my effort to be so malleable and easygoing with other people’s opinions, I’d washed out my own convictions about who the Creator of all things good and worthy is and why it’s important to remember that in all we do. This woman meant to plant a seed. And that’s exactly what she did—her seed hit fertile soil and inspired new growth where a little TLC was needed.
I never got her name. But grandma from the park, thank you for your tenacity in sharing the Gospel everywhere you go.
Here’s my struggle: I’m a non-confrontational person. Ask me about politics? Nope. Next topic. Ask me about religion? I’m interested, but I won’t take harsh stances because I want to agree to disagree or at least always be respectful of the other person.
But there’s a problem with that approach. Some people won’t respect you if you can’t stand up for what you believe. More importantly, how will anyone know I love Jesus if I keep it tucked away in the name of being polite?
Paul writes in Romans 1:16, “For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.” Yet somehow, I’d become functionally ashamed—not in my heart, but in my silence. I was calling myself a Christian and then laughing along with cultural or political stories as if I didn’t have an opinion about them, as if my faith didn’t inform how I saw the world.
I live in a vastly unchurched community. I want to develop a more meaningful way of communicating my personal beliefs with the people I interact with—while still respecting them, but making it known that I love Jesus. I want them to know I’m here and ready to talk about it when they are. I want to seek moments to bring it up when it’s relevant, not force it awkwardly, but not hide it either.
Because I truly believe that seeds can be planted through lives lived in proximity, even if we’re not talking about our faith all the time. But people need to know we’re believers in the first place.
After the park incident, I knew I needed to do something. So I took an evangelism class my church happened to be offering to get more comfortable talking about my faith. One of the most practical tools I learned was the S.A.L.T. framework:
S – Start conversations
A – Ask questions
L – Listen well
T – Tell HIS story
*Quick side note: This Engage Training that I did was fabulous, and I’d encourage every Christian to have a training like this in their toolbelt.
It’s simple, but it shifted my perspective. Witnessing isn’t about cornering people with a presentation (PS… I’ve never done that 😅). It’s about being genuinely curious, listening well, and naturally weaving in the hope we have in Christ. It takes the pressure off and makes evangelism feel less like a performance and more like the authentic relationship it should be.
The class also encouraged us to write our testimony—to turn our story of faith into a sort of elevator pitch so that when someone asks why we believe what we do, we have an answer. And here’s the embarrassing truth: I’ve never formally written or even thought about my testimony. It’s a topic I’ve thoroughly avoided in my Christian walk since childhood.
But it’s time that I get to it, for the glory of God and not for the glory of my fear of inadequacy.
Part of getting equipped has also meant being able to articulate what I actually believe. I’ve found this Gospel Creed, developed by Rice Broocks, incredibly helpful:
“The Gospel is the good news that God became man in Jesus Christ. He lived the life we should have lived, and died the death we should have died—in our place. Three days later, he rose from the dead, proving that he is the Son of God, and offering the gift of salvation and forgiveness of sins to anyone who repents and believes in him.”
It’s concise. It’s clear. It’s something I’m working to memorize so that when the moment comes, I’m ready.
Colossians 4:5 has become a guiding verse for me in this journey: “Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity.”
Making the most of every opportunity doesn’t mean being obnoxious or pushy. It means being intentional. It means living in such a way that my faith is visible, not hidden. It means preparing myself—through prayer, through study, through practice—so that when a conversation opens up, I’m ready to step into it with grace and truth.
The verses leading up to that one are just as important. Paul writes in Colossians 4:3-4, “Pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains. Pray that I may proclaim it clearly, as I should.”
Prayer is where this starts. Not just praying for opportunities, but praying for clarity and boldness when those opportunities come. Praying that God would help me proclaim the Gospel clearly, as I should.
Maybe you’re like me—a non-confrontational Christian who’s been playing it safe. Maybe your faith has become so invisible that even other believers mistake you for an unbeliever. Maybe you’ve been laughing along when you should have been speaking up, or staying silent when you could have planted a seed.
If that’s you, I want to encourage you: it’s not about becoming someone you’re not. It’s about letting who you already are in Christ become visible. It’s about intentional growth and preparation, not forced evangelism.
Start small. Write out your testimony. Memorize a simple explanation of the Gospel. Practice the S.A.L.T. framework in your everyday conversations. Pray for boldness. And when the moment comes—and it will come—step into it.
So here’s where I am now: I’m working on bringing my faith to the surface. Not in a way that’s abrasive or self-righteous, but in a way that’s authentically me—warm, kind, relational, but also clear about what I believe and why it matters.
Join me in being prepared for every opportunity to share the hope of the Gospel:
Even if it feels simple, even if you don’t have a dramatic conversion story, it’s your story. And God can use it.
These tools help me feel more confident in starting spiritual conversations without it feeling forced. Practice makes perfect. Start with the grocery store clerks or baristas you may never see again if you need to. But start.
When you know what you believe and can articulate it clearly, you’re less likely to shrink back in the moment.
God is faithful to open doors. You just need to be ready to walk through them. The people you witness to along the way may surprise you.
Growth happens outside your comfort zone. Being a visible Christian might mean some people think I’m too much or too religious. That’s okay. It really is.
The grandmother at the park didn’t know me. She had no idea if I’d be receptive or hostile. But she spoke up anyway, equipped and ready, because she believed the Gospel was worth sharing. And because of her faithfulness, I’m changed.
The world needs to see our Christianity. Not our performance, not our perfection, but our hope. Our joy. Our Savior.
Let your faith show. You never know whose life might be changed because you did.
Lord,
Give me the courage to let my faith show in my everyday life. Help me to be wise and gentle, but never silent about the hope I have in You. Open doors for conversations, and give me the words to speak when those moments come.
Amen.
Lauren is a founder of For This House. She is passionate about living authentically for Christ both personally and professionally. Lauren lives in British Columbia with her family of boys. She enjoys nature walks, quality time with family or friends, and exploring new places. Learn more about Lauren.
Lauren is a founder of For This House. She is passionate about living authentically for Christ both personally and professionally. Lauren lives in British Columbia with her family of boys. She enjoys nature walks, quality time with family or friends, and exploring new places. Learn more about Lauren.