Why Christians Need More BBQs
There are few things in life better than a BBQ on a beautiful day. Mates in the garden, burgers on the grill, an ice-cold beer in hand, and one man standing proudly over the flames like he’s finally found his calling. It’s legit the only kind of cooking most fellas actually want to do. Put the same man in a kitchen and he’s “just keeping out of the way.” Put him in front of a BBQ with a set of cheap BBQ tools and suddenly he’s Gordon Ramsay in cargo shorts.
And honestly, I’m here for it.
Not because I think sausages are a sacrament, although some of you may want to argue that point in the comments. But because there is something beautifully ordinary and deeply powerful about making space for people around food. It doesn’t have to be a BBQ, of course. It could be coffee, Sunday lunch, pizza, a takeaway, or whatever you can manage without causing yourself a minor breakdown. But let’s be honest, there is no bad excuse for a decent BBQ.
Stages Matter, But Tables Make Space
I love preaching. I really do. I believe preaching matters. I believe platform ministry, evangelistic events, courses, testimonies, church services and public invitations are all part of the calling of the church. God uses them, and I have seen Him use them. So this is not me having a pop at preaching while quietly hoping nobody notices I’m a preacher.
But I have never once managed to have a deep pastoral conversation mid-sermon.
A sermon can proclaim truth, but a conversation lets someone ask what that truth means for them. It allows space for questions, doubts, confusion, pushback, laughter, tears, and the slightly awkward moment where someone says, “I don’t even know if I believe in God, but…” and then opens up in a way they probably never would have done in a church building.
Why Church Can Feel Like a Big Ask For Some People
For a lot of people, stepping into a church is a big ask. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard some version of, “If I stepped foot in a church, I’d burst into flames.” People usually say it as a joke, but there is often something underneath it. Fear. Shame. Bad experiences. A sense that church is not for people like them. A worry that they’ll be judged, exposed, pressured, or made to feel like the spiritual equivalent of someone walking into a black tie dinner wearing a hi-vis jacket.
This is why relational evangelism matters so much. Not because it is softer than “proper” evangelism, but because it is often more personal, more relatable, and more able to show how the rubber of the gospel hits the road of real life.
Jesus Ate With People
Jesus seemed to understand this rather well. He preached to crowds, absolutely. But He also spent a surprising amount of time eating with people. He went to homes. He sat at tables. He shared meals with people others avoided. In Luke 19, when Jesus meets Zacchaeus, He doesn’t start by handing him a leaflet from a safe distance. He looks up and says, “I must be a guest in your home today” (Luke 19:5, NLT).
That meal changed everything.
Zacchaeus wasn’t treated like a project. He wasn’t cornered, processed, and abandoned. He was seen. He was valued. He was called by name. Jesus entered his world, and in that place of welcome and relationship, repentance came. Not vague religious niceness. Real repentance. Real change. Real transformation.
People Are Not Projects
Relational evangelism is not about being so friendly that we forget to share Jesus. It is not about building nice relationships forever while quietly hoping someone will accidentally become a Christian through the spiritual power of potato salad. At some point, love opens its mouth. At some point, we speak about Jesus. We talk about repentance, faith, baptism, forgiveness, grace, surrender, and new life. Jesus didn’t tell us to go into all the world and be vaguely pleasant. He said, “Go and make disciples of all the nations” (Matthew 28:19, NLT).
But we also need to be careful that we don’t get so caught up in chasing decisions that we forget discipleship.
People are not projects. Few things turn people off church quicker than feeling like Christians only care about forcing them through some magic prayer before abandoning them for the next spiritual target. And yes, I mean magic prayer, because sometimes we have treated it like that. As if evangelism is complete once someone repeats the right words, rather than the beginning of the long, beautiful, messy journey of helping someone follow Jesus.
The sinner’s prayer is not the command Jesus gave the church. Jesus taught people to repent, believe and be baptised. He taught us to go and make disciples, not reluctant converts. He taught us to love people where they are, live out the integrity of the gospel, and bear witness to the transforming power of God in ordinary life. That is very different from accosting a stranger somewhere between Argos and Starbucks so we can meet our target of handing out 100 flyers before lunch.
Not Less Gospel, Just More Personal
To be clear, there is a place for bold public witness. There is a place for preaching outside. There is a place for tracts, events, courses, invitations, and church gatherings. The point is not that those things are useless. The point is that, in our current cultural moment, many people are far more likely to meaningfully engage with the gospel through relationship, trust, conversation, hospitality and shared life.
Different roads take different times to travel, but some roads are more likely to help someone safely reach the destination of salvation, discipleship and spiritual maturity.
The early church seemed to know this too. Acts tells us they worshipped together publicly, but they also “met in homes” and “shared their meals with great joy and generosity” (Acts 2:46, NLT). Their witness wasn’t only in public gatherings. It was also around dinner tables. Their faith wasn’t hidden away in private, but neither was it confined to religious events. It spilled into homes, friendships, meals, generosity, conversation and ordinary life.
Make Room in Real Life
And this is where some of us need a gentle nudge. We can agree with hospitality in theory while having absolutely no space for it in practice. We can love the idea of reaching people, but have diaries so full that we couldn’t fit in a neighbour, colleague, old friend or family member without needing three months’ notice and a shared spreadsheet.
But you can’t welcome people into your life if your life has no room for people.
This doesn’t mean every Christian needs to become the sort of host who owns matching napkins and says things like, “I just threw this together,” while presenting a meal that looks like it was assembled by an artisan woodland chef. Some of us are more “frozen pizza and a slightly panicked tidy-up” kind of people. That’s fine. Hospitality is not about impressing people with your house, your cooking, or your ability to keep skirting boards dust-free. It is about making room.
Invite people into your actual life, not some polished show-home version of it. Let them see your faith in the middle of normal things. How you speak to your family. How you handle pressure. How you say sorry. How you pray. How you laugh. How you cope when life is hard. How Jesus is not just a Sunday subject, but the centre of your life.
Light the Grill, Open the Door
That kind of witness is powerful because it is not a lecture. It is lived.
And when people ask why you are different, tell them. When they ask why you have hope, tell them. When they ask why you forgive, why you pray, why church matters, why you follow Jesus, tell them. Not with a weird voice. Not with a sudden personality transplant. Not by turning your kitchen into a pulpit and trapping them between the fridge and eternal destiny. Just tell them honestly and warmly about the Jesus who has changed your life.
So yes, Christians need more BBQs. Not because burgers save people. They don’t, although a good one can feel like a small act of mercy. We need more BBQs because we need more open homes, more open lives, more real friendships, and more spaces where people can encounter the gospel not as a sales pitch, but as a living reality.
Don’t overcomplicate it. Don’t wait until your house is perfect, your diary is empty, your theology degree arrives, or your BBQ technique is beyond criticism.
Light the grill. Open the door. Love people well.
And somewhere between the burgers, the cheap BBQ tools and the suspiciously large bowl of coleslaw, be ready to talk about Jesus.