Have you ever seen a movie or read a book or eaten a meal that was so fantastic that you couldn’t help but talk about it? Your spouse, your friends, your coworkers, your hairdresser–anyone and everyone seems like the perfect person to talk to about that spine-tingling film or life-changing novel or mouth-watering grilled salmon. If you’re like me, an enthusiastic sort, you can even drive people a little crazy with the topic, at least until the Next Big Thing comes along to capture your fancy.

So then why are so many of us so hesitant to talk about our faith? Why is it that when I hear an energizing and insightful sermon or am delighted by a soaringly beautiful hymn, or for that matter when I witness an inspiring act of sacrificial service to others–all of which happen with astonishing frequency in my parish–I rarely think to chat about it with the supermarket checkout clerk or the other moms waiting to pick their kids up after school? To be perfectly honest, it’s something of a fluke if it even becomes a hot topic at our dinner table that night.

This whole question of why mainline Christians are so reticent about the very word “evangelism” is just one of the challenging topics covered in the book Unbinding the Gospel: Real Life Evangelism by Martha Grace Reese. I’ve been leading a class on the book, and it’s led me to a reconsideration of my knee-jerk “oh I just don’t think I can do that” response to the idea of evangelizing. Most of the people in our class have said they have an almost allergic reaction to the idea of being seen as a “Bible thumper” or some other stereotype of the insensitive evangelist. “We’re just not like that here,” these people have said, or, “I don’t want to shove my religion down people’s throats.”

Yet as we’ve been on this journey together of rethinking evangelism, there has been a real shift in our conversations. Speaking for myself, when I think of evangelism as being about sharing my faith, my anxiety level begins to drop a little. Sharing my faith does not have to be about certainty that I’m right, or about trying to convince anyone of anything. It can be about invitation, welcome, hospitality, and connection. It does need to be real, and rooted in uncompromising honesty about my own personal experience of God.

Now that I’m less afraid of the “e-word,” I worry a little about tiling too far the other way, and falling into the error of what Archbishop Rowan Williams calls “ecclesiastical triumphalism.” That’s where I think intention is everything. When I write about why I love the Episcopal Church, for instance, I’m not really expecting that everyone who reads my posts will trample down our doors and flood our pews (although that would be nice!). I don’t expect anyone to follow me, but I do passionately hope that someone will be moved to follow Jesus, wherever that might lead.

And I recognize that writing and talking about these things is hard. Faith is personal, even intimate. I risk rejection and embarrassment by exposing my deepest beliefs to the often harsh-yet-murky light of the blogosphere. I risk getting it wrong and looking dumb. And, what might be more important than any of that, I risk inadvertently hurting someone who doesn’t share my beliefs, and who feels judged because of our differences.

There is another risk that is sometimes overlooked when we talk about evangelism, and that comes about when we remember that sharing is a two-way street. As a friend in the class said, “It’s not just about breaking down barriers, it’s about building bridges, and that goes both ways. I have to risk that my mind, my beliefs, might be changed in the process as well.”

So why do it? Why take any of these risks? Because I know in my deep heart’s core that my life has been transformed by my faith, and I believe that the sharing of that faith can transform the world.