Throughout most of my life there has been a sense that Baptist preachers were trying to make me (and others) feel guilty about evangelism — or the lack thereof. To a large degree, they have succeeded.

The primary approach is to roll out impressive success stories— about themselves or others — and to ask why the rest of us can’t do the same. At the Southern Baptist Convention meeting this summer, Jerry Vines scolded the faithful for being less than enthusiastically evangelistic and Bobby Welch compared aggressive witnesses like himself to “huntin’ dogs” as opposed to “lap dogs.”

I’m sure many who listened to these former SBC presidents and mega-church pastors returned to their smaller pulpits the next Sunday and scolded their own flocks — using similar stories and scriptures — to pass the guilt around more broadly.

If you have attended many Baptist denominational meetings — especially the famous preach-offs commonly deemed as evangelism conferences — you know the feeling.

Have you ever wondered how big-time Christian preachers seem to have never sat on an airplane by an equally fervent Christian, a hardened pagan, an unwavering devotee of another faith or simply someone who would rather sleep than talk to a preacher? Nope, it’s always a willing convert — just in time for the evening sermon.

When the scolding is fully dispensed it is usually followed by new techniques or methodologies guaranteed to bring in lost sheep. Sign up for the course, buy the book, practice the sales pitch and you’ll succeed.

In some ways the Christian faith is different than some others in that disciples are called to both personal growth and to share their story with others. The gospel is most simply “good news” — and anyone who hears good news is compelled to share it.

Personality has a lot to do with how people do or do not share their faith — and how easily they accept guilt about it. Talking with strangers or addressing such deeply personal concerns come easier for some than others.

For some Christians, words are not seen as the best method of faith sharing. They prefer to let their actions make a clearer statement. Any condemnation of such will have to come from the big-time preachers, not me.

Many of us give great attention to the careful passing along of faith to our children and grandchildren, yet avoid what feels like an intrusion into the lives of other families. And the growing pluralism around us makes the challenge even greater.

For the past decade, Hanna Rosin has been covering religion for the Washington Post. In a recent article at alternet.org, she explained that evangelical Christians were “unfailingly gracious” but not good at respecting boundaries.

“The first time someone tried to share the gospel with me, I naively explained that I was Jewish and born in Israel, thank you, thinking this would end the conversation,” she wrote. “This was a big mistake. In certain parts of Christian America, admitting I was an Israeli-born Jew turned me into walking catnip. Because God’s own chosen people had so conspicuously rejected Jesus, winning one over was an irresistible challenge.”

She added that the glamour the Holy Land holds for many Christians just added to the allure. And she was stunned that “preachers told me they love me, half an hour after we met.”

My track record does not give me a strong position on which to stand as an expert on evangelism. I only sense that mutually respectful, trusting relationships reveal faith more clearly than rote sayings or well-rehearsed strategies.

It takes awhile to shed years of guilt over being responsible not only for one’s own spiritual condition, but also the eternal course of those with whom we have even the most casual daily contact. But surely the call to help deliver the good news can be fulfilled in honest ways that see others as equally valued children of God with their own identities, successes, struggles and traditions — not as targets in our sights.