Recently, after a break from ministry, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and onto the streets of Sydney to evangelise in a way I hadn’t before.
At the end of the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus gives his disciples a directive known as the Great Commission: “to go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” It’s a mandate often quoted in churches, preached from pulpits, and taught in catechism classes. But how often do we live it out?
According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC), this command (evangelisation) is not optional or symbolic. It’s rooted in the very nature of the church and our baptismal call: “ultimately grounded in the eternal love of the Most Holy Trinity: ‘The church on earth is by her nature missionary since, according to the plan of the Father, she has as her origin the mission of the Son and the Holy Spirit.’
“The ultimate purpose of mission is none other than to make men share in the communion between the Father and the Son in their Spirit of love.”
That’s a high calling—and frankly, an intimidating one.
So when the opportunity came to join the Emmanuel Community in Redfern for their monthly street evangelisation ministry, I wrestled with it.
On the way there I asked myself, “Why am I doing this?” Yes, I’d spoken to kids and teenagers about God before—even some parents. But those encounters took place within the safety of church walls and parish halls. This felt different. It felt vulnerable.
But as I neared St Vincent de Paul’s church, a quiet reassurance pierced through the doubt: “Because I need people to know I love them.”
That was it. That gentle reminder shifted everything. Evangelisation isn’t about me—it’s about those who need a reminder or have yet to encounter a love that created them, redeemed them, and longs for them.
So I let the fear pass, showed up, and allowed myself to be available for whatever God had in mind.
We began with praise and worship, then split into two groups. One remained inside the church in adoration before the Blessed Sacrament, while the other went out in pairs to hand out scripture verses or simply start conversations with passersby. After about 30 minutes, the groups would swap.
My friend, who had done this before, guided me. One of our early encounters was with a lovely couple—he was just returning to his faith, and she was eager to deepen hers. It was a quiet reminder that God is always working, gently calling people back to himself.
Some people accepted the scripture verses and moved on. Others averted their eyes or politely declined. It was a mixed bag—but a beautiful one.
Our final encounter was with a lovely man called Glen. He’d had a hard life and painful experiences with the Catholic Church and had been a self-professed atheist who refused to enter the church.
However after a litany of “God-incidents” throughout his life he knew the odds of these events happening without God behind them were slim to none, so became a non-denominational Christian.
After hearing his story, my friend invited him to pray inside and that night he entered a Catholic church for the first time in years.
God is working. He is moving around us everyday and only asks us to be willing and say yes. To step out of our comfort zone and live out our baptismal calling.
It doesn’t have to be street ministry. Many of us have people within our family and friend groups who God wants introduced to him. He’ll do the heavy lifting; he just wants us to plant some seeds.
One thing is clear to me after that night: the church cannot afford to keep the Gospel within its walls. The streets are waiting.