Apparently Evangelism Is Fine… as Long as You’re an Atheist

Christians have a reputation for evangelism.

We have missionaries, street preachers, gospel tracts, and that one friend who somehow manages to turn every barbecue conversation into a discussion about eternity. Love it or loathe it, we've become synonymous with trying to persuade people to embrace our faith.

So imagine my surprise when one of the most evangelistic campaigns I've seen this year wasn't from a church.

It was from an atheist organisation.

As the Australian census approaches, the Atheist Foundation of Australia and several other secular organisations have launched a campaign encouraging Australians who no longer identify as religious to mark "No religion" on their census form.

At first glance, that seems entirely reasonable. If you no longer believe or practise a religion, then answering the census honestly is exactly what you should do.

But the more I explored the campaign, the more familiar it felt.

There was a compelling vision for a better society. There was a call to publicly identify yourself with the cause. There were arguments about shaping Australia's future, influencing public policy, and ensuring people's voices were properly represented. There were organisations rallying behind the message.

There was even a Donate button.

I couldn't help but smile… not because I object to the campaign. People should answer the census truthfully…. but because it reminded me of something we rarely stop to consider.

Perhaps evangelism isn't a uniquely Christian activity after all.

Perhaps it's simply what human beings do whenever they become convinced they've found a better story about the world — and want everyone else to believe it too.

Here is the Facebook ad:

Everyone Wants Their Kingdom

As I read through the campaign's website, I couldn't help noticing how familiar the language felt.

The argument isn't simply that people should answer the census honestly. It's that if enough people identify as having "No religion," the balance of power will begin to shift. Governments will make different decisions. Public funding will flow differently. Religious influence will diminish. Society, we're told, will become fairer and more representative.

It's a vision for the future.

And that's where I couldn't help noticing the irony.

For years, secular critics have accused Christians of trying to create a "Christian nation." They object when churches lobby politicians, campaign for particular policies, or encourage believers to vote according to their convictions. That's dismissed as religious people trying to impose their beliefs on everyone else.

Yet this campaign is driven by exactly the same instinct.

The destination has changed. The instinct hasn't.

Instead of a Christian nation, the goal is a more secular one. Instead of encouraging people to identify publicly as Christian, people are encouraged to identify publicly as having no religion. Instead of lobbying for policies grounded in Christian convictions, secular organisations lobby for policies grounded in secular convictions.

Both believe society would be better if more people embraced their vision.

Both organise.

Both campaign.

Both raise money.

Both seek political influence.

Both try to persuade.

The only real difference is the destination.

One wants a society shaped more by Christianity. The other wants a society shaped less by it. What fascinates me is that one of these activities is routinely described as "evangelism," while the other is usually called "advocacy." Perhaps that's because we tend to notice persuasion most clearly when it's coming from people we disagree with.

There Is No Neutral Public Square

The problem is that secularism is often presented as though it were simply the absence of belief.

Religion, in this telling, is a worldview. Secularism is merely the neutral space left behind once religious ideas have been removed.

But that isn't quite true.

A secular vision of society still rests on beliefs about human beings, morality, freedom, authority and the common good. It still makes judgments about which values should shape public life, which voices should carry weight, and which institutions deserve public support. Those judgments may not appeal to God or Scripture, but they are not therefore free from conviction.

They simply begin from a different set of convictions.

That distinction matters, especially in the United States, where arguments about the separation of church and state often become arguments about whether religious belief should have any place in public life at all. Preventing the government from establishing a religion is one thing. Expecting religious people to leave their deepest convictions at home before entering the voting booth is something else entirely.

Every citizen enters public life carrying beliefs about what is true, what is good and what kind of society we ought to build. Christians do it. Atheists do it. Progressives do it. Conservatives do it. Even the person who insists politics should be guided only by reason has already made a philosophical claim about what counts as reason and which forms of knowledge should be trusted.

Every point of view is a view from a point.

This doesn't mean every belief deserves to become law, nor does it justify Christians using political power to force their theology upon everyone else. I have little interest in Christian nationalism. The church has rarely looked more like Jesus when it has been closest to the throne of power.

But the alternative cannot be pretending that secularism has no missionary ambition of its own.

A society shaped entirely by secular assumptions is no more neutral than one shaped entirely by Christian ones. Both elevate certain beliefs. Both limit others. Both make decisions about what kind of human flourishing matters and how it should be pursued.

The real question, then, is not whether beliefs will shape public life. They always will. The question is whether people with competing beliefs can share a society without trying to silence, dominate or erase one another.

Jesus Chose a Very Different Kind of Kingdom

Recognising that everyone evangelises doesn't mean every form of evangelism is equally good.

The question isn't whether we try to persuade people. Every movement does that. The real question is what kind of world we're inviting them into, and how we're trying to get them there.

This is where I think Christians have often lost their way.

Too much of modern Christianity has assumed that if we can just win enough elections, pass enough legislation, or secure enough cultural influence, the kingdom of God will somehow arrive by political means. We have sometimes behaved as though Jesus' greatest commission was to capture institutions rather than transform hearts.

Yet when you read the Gospels, Jesus doesn't seem particularly interested in gaining political control. He speaks constantly about the kingdom of God, but almost never about taking over the kingdom of Rome. His movement spread because ordinary people were changed by what they encountered in him. The cross, not the throne, became the defining symbol of Christianity. That ought to tell us something.

Ironically, that leaves Christians in the unusual position of believing deeply in evangelism while remaining profoundly suspicious of the pursuit of power.

Because once the church starts believing that political victory is the same thing as gospel victory, it has usually stopped sounding like Jesus.

More Familiar Than They'd Probably Like to Admit

The more time I spent on the website, the more I found myself smiling.

There were videos of people explaining why they had left religion and why others should publicly identify as having "No religion." If you've ever sat through a church service, they felt strangely familiar.

Christians usually call those testimonies.

There were carefully crafted arguments about why this decision matters. There was a compelling vision of a better future if enough people joined the movement.

Christians usually call those sermons.

There were organisations working together toward a shared mission. There were volunteers. There was a campaign. There was a request for financial support.

Christians usually call that the offering.

None of this is meant as a criticism. Every movement needs funding. Every movement tells stories. Every movement tries to persuade people that joining the cause matters.

What fascinates me is that many of the same people who roll their eyes when Christians do these things suddenly regard them as perfectly reasonable when they're advancing a secular cause.

Apparently evangelism is only objectionable when someone is trying to convert you to religion.

When they're trying to convert you away from it, it's simply public education.

That feels like a remarkably convenient distinction.

Tell the Truth

When the census arrives, I'll be ticking "Christian."

And it's not because I think Christianity needs to win a numbers game, or because I'm trying to bolster the church's political influence. I'll tick that box because, despite my many disagreements with parts of modern Christianity, it remains the most honest description of who I am. The census is supposed to measure reality, not manufacture it.

That's why I won't be telling anyone else what to write on their form. If you've left Christianity, don't believe in God, or genuinely identify with no religion, then "No religion" is the truthful answer. If you belong to another faith, answer accordingly. Honest data is good data.

What I object to is something different.

Let's not pretend a campaign to persuade millions of Australians to tick a particular box is somehow free from ideology while Christian evangelism is condemned as political activism. Both are attempts to shape the future. The only real difference is which future they're trying to build.

Let's just be honest about what it is.

It's evangelism.

It's a movement inviting people to publicly identify with a vision of the world because its organisers believe that vision will produce a better society. That's exactly what religious movements have done for centuries. The irony is that many of the people most critical of Christian evangelism are employing precisely the same methods — campaigns, testimonies, fundraising, public persuasion and calls for public identification — to advance a different kingdom.

Perhaps the real lesson here is that human beings are incurably evangelistic. We all want others to embrace the story we believe is true. We all hope the world will move a little closer to our vision of the good society.

The only question is whether we're willing to recognise that impulse in ourselves as quickly as we recognise it in everyone else.

Dan Foster is the author of "The Bible is Your Story: What the characters of Scripture reveal about the patterns shaping your life."

The Backyard Church is not just a blog. It's a real online community for people who have faith but can't, don't, or won't go to church. Join today.

If you're a writer or blogger who wants to grow your voice and build momentum online, I also run Bloggers Academy — a smaller community where I teach what I've learned growing from zero to 100,000+ followers. Learn more here

For more articles on life, faith, and spirituality, Sign-up for my newsletter. Also, feel free to send questions and story ideas to thebackyardchurch@gmail.com