“Jesus, shall it be Nigeria or Bulgaria?”

An Evangelist Tale

Date: 3^rd May 2025 (Saturday)

“Jesus, shall it be Nigeria or Bulgaria?”

By Neil McBride

Today may not have seemed extraordinary to the world, just another day, another walk, another conversation. But for me, it was a step of bold faith. I joined an outreach planned by one of our church leaders the night before. The time and place were set, and my heart said, “Go.”

Though I am naturally shy and often battle anxiety in social settings, I refused to let fear speak louder than the Spirit. I chose obedience over comfort. The flesh may tremble, but the Holy Spirit empowers. And I have come to learn true victory never comes by our own strength, it comes when we surrender and let God lead.

Most mornings, I wake up feeling excited, not just because it’s a new day but because of the conversations that have yet to happen. Just one word, one genuine chat, could lead someone to Jesus. That thought gets my heart racing before my feet hit the floor.

I stood in front of the mirror, smiling, practising my “hello” like I was prepping for a red-carpet event, except this one was for the King of Kings. I will admit I am a bit odd. While most people start their mornings with coffee, I start mine deep in prayer, asking the Holy Spirit to take the lead. He’s my number one strategy, my first and best “tool” in outreach.

Then it was off to the shower to tame the wild creature that is my hair. My feet are tapping, and my heart is thumping; I love outreach days! I never stress about what to wear. There are no uniforms or gimmicks; I don’t believe in turning Jesus into a marketing campaign. Just show up real, full of love, and let the Spirit do the talking.

I threw some product into my hair to look slightly more human and left the bed hair behind, literally, under the sheets. I pulled back my bedroom curtain and boom! Sunshine poured in, clouds floating off like they had somewhere better to be. It was a perfect spring day in the UK.

Then came the all-important t-shirt decision. I need to buy more for summer, but for now, it was between two legends: the 1994 Bulgaria shirt and the 1996 Nigeria kit. I went with Nigeria, partly because it’s iconic but mostly because we were heading into an area with a big Nigerian community. Consider it outreach fashion with cultural awareness. Mission minded and stylish!

I left my home with the door swinging behind me like it had something dramatic to say, and honestly, I felt the shift already happening in me as I stepped into the day’s mission. There’s something holy about those first few steps toward purpose.

I love the walk to the train station. It is where I do my two favourite things: pray and hope the Wi-Fi holds long enough to read some random article about, I do not know, why pigeons bob their heads or how revival swept through Wales in 1904. Balance.

After some time praying in tongues, I switched gears and hopped on Shopify, not to buy anything (yet) but to hunt for the perfect playlist. It’s usually a toss-up between my 1960s soul or 1980s joy anthems. Either way, I want music that makes my spirit dance even if my feet are stuck on a train platform.

Now, my brain? It’s a constant carnival. Thanks to ADHD, my thoughts can feel like a million tabs open with someone randomly blasting 3 of them on full volume. So, to help manage the “more,” I focus on less, one step at a time. Sometimes, that means counting red cars in the car park, and sometimes, it means watching birds zip between buildings like tiny, winged prophets.

I kept turning my face to the sun like a sunflower with a purpose, soaking in the moment, being present. I do not dwell on the past unless it is to share a testimony, and I do not obsess over the future unless we are talking about the second coming (which could be any moment now).

As Scripture says, I take no thought for tomorrow; it has enough drama. Today is the day the Lord has made, and I’m rejoicing, red cars and all.

I hopped onto the train, which was not too crowded or empty, just that sweet middle ground where you can breathe but still feel like you are in a movie scene. Of course, my eyes immediately went hunting for a sacred relic: a seat with a table. It is a seven-minute journey, but a table gives the vibe of productivity… or at least the illusion of it.

I genuinely love trains. They are like a mobile prayer room. They give me a few quiet minutes with the Lord and, sometimes, a golden opportunity to share the Gospel. I have handed out more than a few eternal-life conversations alongside train tickets.

It was only two stops until my destination, so it was not exactly a cross-country pilgrimage. I was not thinking much about the outreach ahead or the people I would be meeting. I was just present, coasting, spiritually and literally.

I arrived at the coffee shop an hour before anyone else, classic me. But hey, I am a writer, so early arrivals are just a bonus writing time. I ordered my usual: a large latte. Caffeine, and I understand; it keeps me relaxed and powers my brain like Holy Spirit rocket fuel (do not fact, check that).

I settled in, fingers dancing across my laptop like I was playing an invisible grand piano, mostly spelling mistakes and creative grammar, but hey, it is art. Then I looked up and saw a familiar, warm smile. One of the sisters from church had arrived.

It’s time to pause the masterpiece. The fellowship begins.

People started pouring into the coffee shop like it was a surprise birthday party for Jesus, laughter, smiles, and warm greetings. We were taking over the place, one joyful church member at a time. Honestly, there’s no better social event than fellowship. Move over weddings and birthdays; the kingdom community wins every time.

Since we had recently moved into a new hall, we had a glamorous job: putting new stickers with our updated time and location onto every outreach leaflet. Ministry meets arts and crafts! Okay, I will be real, sticking labels onto cards does not exactly scream “Book of Acts,” but it matters. It is not flashy, but it is kingdom work.

I could not help but laugh, imagining Peter and Paul in 2000 AD, sitting in a coffee shop somewhere in Rome, sipping lattes and peeling stickers:

“Brother Paul, did you remember to align the label properly?”

“Brother Peter and I wrote a letter to the Ephesians while I waited for my flat white.”

Anyway, it was time to pause the coffee chat, set down the stickers, and step into purpose, fully suited up in my iconic Nigerian football shirt. Nervousness? Oh, for sure. It buzzed quietly in the background like bad elevator music. But I walked forward in faith, reminding myself that courage isn’t the absence of nerves; it’s obedience despite them.

There I was, stepping onto a bustling high street with sticky leaflets in hand, prayers in my heart, and wearing the wrong football shirt. The first person I meet. A Bulgarian gentleman. Yep. Bulgaria… and me in a rival shirt. Brilliant start.

But hey, it did not matter. I have read up on Bulgaria; I know my banitsa from my Botev Plovdiv. I love sharing the gospel, but I also believe in meeting people where they are, not just dropping scripture like spiritual confetti. I’m confident in the Word, but try to keep it gentle, like a shepherd, not a sledgehammer.

We shared a few stories about Bulgarian traditions (thank you, late-night Wikipedia binges) and then dipped into the deeper waters—church, baptism, and the Holy Spirit. He did not speak much English, so I offered to chat more over text. I even thought of calling in my Bulgarian friend for backup because, when the gospel calls, we tag-team it like spiritual Avengers.

It was a slow outreach day for me, but we had a great turnout from church, leaflets flying like doves of hope. As I always say, it’s not about me. The church is a team, no, a machine, a divine, grace-fuelled, people-powered machine.

Then came the plot twist: Someone approached me, a guy working on his Instagram street photography project. Naturally, I was now rocking my Nigerian football shirt (wardrobe change included). He wanted to snap a photo of me for his account. Of course, I said yes. I mean, how often do you get to be someone’s content?

We chatted about social media, and he gave me some solid tips on growing my Instagram. That opened the door to talking about Jesus, not like a lecture, but more like a coffee chat. I always let people talk about their passions because that’s when their eyes light up, and that’s where real conversations begin. Bible truths? We’ll get there. You have to know when to gently open the Book and when to let the Spirit do the talking.

He handed me his business card, which meant the conversation was not over; he just paused for the sequel.

I had a few other chats, gave out some more leaflets (still sticky), and thanked God for every interaction. It was not flashy, but the gospel is not meant to be hidden. Each talk is like adding a rep to my outreach muscle. No reps, no growth. It is spiritual gym time, folks.

When I got home, I had a quick word with the Lord, a little post-outreach debrief. I gave Him the glory for every moment, every awkward pause, every smile, and every scripture shared. As someone naturally shy (and proudly socially anxious), I usually shut down after an outreach. I go straight to my playlist, head in the clouds, brain yelling, “Do not overthink it!”

But then I remind myself to stay in the moment, give honest feedback, learn, and grow. And tomorrow? Do it all again, with better shirt choices.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate you all, whether out on the high street or just cheering from the sidelines. Let’s keep showing up. Let’s keep shining. And let’s never forget: the gospel is worth every step.

An Evangelist Tale – 3/05/25

DTA – Neil McBride

(CEO and founder of Downtown Angels)