Two weeks ago, I received a heartfelt email from a friend named Laura*. She’s been trying to share Jesus with her long-time friend, Christy*, but Christy’s heart is closed. She’s been deeply hurt—by her ex-husband, by life, and yes, by Christians. Christy has made it clear: she doesn’t want to talk about God. She won’t read Christian books. She won’t even listen to sermons from a pastor she respects.

Laura asked me, “What can I do?”

As I prayed for her, I thought of Jesus’ words: Do to others as you would have them do to you. (Luke 6:31)

If I’d been deeply wounded, how would I want someone to approach me?

First, I’d want them to listen carefully, to take my pain seriously. I might even want them to apologise on behalf of those who hurt me.

Recently when I shared a painful memory of being bullied in primary school, someone looked me in the eye and said, “Bob, I can’t undo what they did. But would it be OK if I stood in their place? I’m so sorry you were treated that way.” That moment softened something deep in me.

Maybe Laura could try something similar with Christy. Not to fix her. Not to push a message. Just to be present and say: “I’m sorry for how people treated you. If it’s OK, I’d like to stand in their place and say that shouldn’t have happened. I see how that was deeply hurtful and offensive and I don't think that is the way you deserved to be treated.”

I also thought about how we sometimes invite friends to church or recommend books or videos. That can feel overwhelming—like asking someone who’s never seen a cricket match to sit through a five-day test. It’s just too much too soon.

But if someone shares a five-minute story—how Jesus helped them mend a relationship, or gave peace during grief—that's much easier to receive. It's personal. It's real. And it’s often more powerful.

So let’s share in small, honest ways how Jesus is walking with us.

If you’ve had experiences like Laura’s, I’d love to hear them. What have you tried? What did God do through that?

Let’s end with prayer:

Lord Jesus,
Thank you for being present in our messy, painful places.
Make us good listeners. Give us the grace to acknowledge others’ pain.
Help us be people who gently open doors, not force them.
Bring healing and hope to friends like Christy.
Amen.