Part One — The Game Plan
Chapter 1 — Diplomacy or D-Day?
When Jesus sent his disciples out like sheep among wolves, he told them to be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves (Matthew 10:16). That’s still good advice for talking about your faith. Defending the truth doesn’t have to feel like storming a beach. Greg Koukl wants to teach you to be a diplomat instead, someone who can move smoothly and graciously through tense conversations. He calls it the Ambassador Model, and it runs more on friendly curiosity than on confrontation.
An ambassador for Christ needs three things. The first is knowledge. You need to know the central message of the gospel and how to answer common objections. The second is wisdom, an artful way of making that message clear and persuasive. That takes the tools of a diplomat, not the weapons of a warrior. The third is character. Knowledge and wisdom come packaged in a person, and if that person doesn’t live like the King he serves, he undermines his own message. This book is about the second skill.
Think of it as strategy versus tactics. Strategy is the big picture, the reasons someone should believe Christianity is true. Tactics are the details of the conversation itself, the art of steering it. A sharp lawyer needs more than facts to win in court. He needs to know how to use them. Tactics keep you in the driver’s seat, so you can guide the discussion, expose bad thinking, and suggest better ideas along the way. The goal is never to win by putting someone down. It’s to manage, not manipulate, to convince, not coerce, to finesse, not fight. Done well, your conversations will feel more like diplomacy than D-Day.
Chapter 2 — Reservations
Plenty of Christians flinch at the idea of arguing about faith. They picture bickering, and quarrels rarely do any good. So here’s a simple rule: if anyone in the conversation gets mad, you lose. But an argument isn’t the same as a fight. Paul told Titus to choose church leaders who could “refute those who contradict” (Titus 1:9). When a church avoids all disagreement, error spreads, believers never learn to disagree graciously, and the peace they end up with is shallow and forced.
Paul himself spent three Sabbaths in one synagogue “explaining and giving evidence” about the Messiah, and “some of them were persuaded” (Acts 17:2–4). You really can argue someone into the kingdom. God is as pleased to use a good argument as a warm act of love, because both fit who he is. The same God who is love also says, “Come now, and let us reason together” (Isaiah 1:18).
Still, the results are up to God, and that takes a huge weight off you. “One sows and another reaps,” Jesus told his disciples (John 4:37). Planters and harvesters work the same field in different seasons, and they celebrate together at the end. You’re one part of a bigger process, so small steps are enough.
That’s why Koukl never sets out to convert anyone. He just wants to put a stone in someone’s shoe, something worth thinking about that keeps poking at them in a good way. Speaking once to a room full of skeptics, he said, “I understand many of you think Christians are stupid. Well, some of them are. But many non-Christians are stupid too, so I don’t know how that helps you.” Then he told them his goal. “I’m not here to convert you tonight. Instead I want to put a stone in your shoe.” Think of a batter stepping up to the plate. He isn’t trying to win the whole game by himself. He just wants a hit. In the same way, you don’t have to score the winning run. Just get up to bat.
Chapter 3 — Getting in the Driver’s Seat: The Columbo Tactic
When a chance comes up, speak up fast, because the door closes in about ten seconds. And you don’t need a sermon. Just ask a question. If someone says, “It’s not rational to believe in God,” ask what they mean by “God,” and what kind of evidence they’d accept. If someone says, “You can’t take the Bible seriously, because men wrote it, and men make mistakes,” ask whether they own any books written by people, and whether they find any truth in them.
Questions take the pressure off you, because the ball is back in the other person’s court. They keep you from twisting what someone meant, and the more the person talks, the more you have to work with.
This first tactic is named after the TV detective Lieutenant Columbo. He asks a suspect an innocent question, turns to leave, then stops, raises a finger, and says, “Just one more thing.” One question leads to another, and another. The key is to go on the offensive in an inoffensive way. Never make a statement, at least at first, when a question will do the job.
Questions are friendly, because they focus on what people care about most, their own ideas. They also teach you things. A young Christian once asked for a book on Buddhism so he could witness to a Buddhist friend. He was told to skip the book and ask his friend to explain it over coffee. He’d learn what his friend really believed and build the friendship at the same time.
Jesus asked questions all the time. “Show me a denarius. Whose likeness and inscription does it have?” (Luke 20:24). He always had a purpose, and Columbo works best when you have a plan too. There are three ways to use it: to gather information, to put the burden of proof where it belongs, and to make a point.
Chapter 4 — Columbo Step 1: Gathering Information
Start slow and show real interest in the person. When a challenge does come up, one question will always get you going: “What do you mean by that?” “Do you believe in evolution?” What do you mean by evolution? “What about all the evil in the world?” What makes bad things bad? “Science has proved there is no God.” Really? How exactly did science do that?
That one question keeps you from misreading the person, puts you in the driver’s seat, and makes them think harder about what they mean. And once you know what someone means, you can often see the problem with it. Take the claim that believing in God is irrational. Believing in leprechauns is irrational. Believing in God is more like believing in atoms. In both cases, you follow the evidence you can see to something you can’t see. A big bang needs a big Banger. The instructions in DNA need an author. A moral law needs a moral lawgiver.
Or take the claim that all religions are basically the same because they all teach love. In fact, religions disagree wildly on basic beliefs. Are aspirin and arsenic basically the same because they both come in tablets? Jesus wasn’t a pluralist either, someone who thinks all religions are equally valid. Jesus’ early followers called themselves “the Way.” Not “a way,” or “one of the ways,” but the Way.
When someone says the Bible was only written by men, notice the word “only.” The claim assumes the very thing it’s trying to prove. So invite the person to hear Jesus out like any other teacher. Koukl keeps copies of John’s gospel in his travel bag and sometimes offers one as a gift, saying, “It might be best to let Jesus speak for himself.” And when someone says Christians shouldn’t force their views on others through politics, ask, “Do you vote?” Every vote is an attempt to pass laws that reflect someone’s views.
Chapter 5 — Columbo Step 2: Reversing the Burden of Proof
Once you understand what someone believes, the next step is to find out why. It’s not your job to refute every story a skeptic can spin. Whoever makes the claim carries the burden of proof. Koukl hosts a call-in radio show, and a caller once used the big bang to argue against a creator. But as he pointed out, a big bang needs a big Banger. And if someone insists the universe came from nothing, it isn’t your job to disprove that something-from-nothing fairy tale. It’s their job to prove it.
So ask the second Columbo question: “How did you come to that conclusion?” Or simply, “Why do you say that?” Caught off guard, some people will admit they don’t have any reasons. That’s a remarkable confession, and it deserves a follow-up: “Why would you believe something you have no reason to think is true?”
When someone offers another explanation, ask three things. Is it possible? Is it plausible? Is it probable? And listen for whether you got an argument or just an opinion. So the next time someone says, “The Bible’s been changed so many times,” don’t retreat in silence. Raise your eyebrows and say, “Oh? How did you come to that conclusion?”
Chapter 6 — Two Reliable Rescues
Sometimes you’ll be in over your head with someone who talks fast and knows more than you. The first rescue is to stop arguing and start gathering facts. You might say, “It sounds like you know a lot more about this than I do. Would you slow down and explain your view and your reasons, so I get them right?” Ask questions until the picture is clear. Then say the magic words: “Let me think about it.” Research the issue later, when the pressure’s off, and come back better prepared.
The second rescue is for when someone isn’t playing fair. Calmly describe what’s happening. If someone calls you a bigot for questioning whether all religions lead to God, you might say, “Did you notice what just happened? I raised a question about your idea, and you called me a name. Why did you do that?”
On the radio, a popular internet atheist once kept twisting Koukl’s views to make them easier to attack. The answer was to narrate the move for the listeners: “You gave a distorted summary of my view. I pointed out it was a misrepresentation. Then you said, ‘Well, that’s the way I interpret your view.’ So even though you know you got my view wrong, you’re still going to cling to your own interpretation. Okay. I just want everyone to be clear on what you’re doing.” Narrating the conversation keeps the other person honest and keeps things friendly.
Chapter 7 — Columbo Step 3: Using Questions to Make a Point
The third use of Columbo leads the other person somewhere. Every time you ask a question and get a yes, the person is telling you they understand the point and agree with it, at least for now. You’re not forcing your opinion on anyone. You’re laying out steps clear enough for them to follow.
Take the charge that you’re intolerant. Start by asking what they mean. Say they answer, “You think you’re right and everyone who disagrees with you is wrong.” You can agree, then ask, “Do you think your views are right?” “Of course I think I’m right,” they say. “But I’m not intolerant like you.” So you ask, “Why is it when I think I’m right, I’m intolerant, but when you think you’re right, you’re just right? What am I missing here?” You’re not missing anything. Calling someone intolerant is just name calling, no different from calling them ugly. There’s no neutral ground on tolerance. Everyone thinks their view is right, and everyone makes judgments.
Questions can also expose a weak argument. Say a professor tells your class the Bible is just myths. You ask why, and he says, “Because it has miracles in it.” And why does that make it a myth? “Because miracles don’t happen.” How does he know? “Because science has shown that miracles don’t happen.” Now comes the key question: “Professor, would you explain exactly how the methods of science have disproved the possibility of supernatural events?” You don’t have to make the point. The questions make it for you.
They can even lead someone to the cross. Koukl once talked with a man who believed in God and was doing his best to live a moral life. To the man, that’s what mattered: how you live, not what you believe. So the questions began. “Do you think people who commit moral crimes ought to be punished?” The man chuckled. “Well, since I’m a prosecuting attorney, I guess I do.” “So do I,” came the reply. “Now, have you ever committed any moral crimes?” After a pause, he nodded. “Yes, I guess I have.” “So have I,” came the answer. “But that puts us both in a tight spot, doesn’t it? Do you know what I call that? I call that bad news.”
In less than sixty seconds, the man had said out loud that he was guilty and deserved punishment. No one had to convince him. Now the good news made sense. “This is where Jesus comes in. God offers a pardon, free of charge, but on his terms, not ours. Jesus paid the penalty in our place. Either we take the pardon and go free, or we turn it down and pay for our crimes ourselves. Either Jesus pays or we pay.” Stating those facts outright would have invited an argument at every step. The questions let the man put the pieces on the table himself. Of course, this only works if you know the gospel well enough to explain it.
To find the flaw in someone’s view, listen closely to their reasons, then raise the weak spot with a question, not a statement. You can soften it with “Have you ever considered…?” or “Can you help me understand this?” And if you run out of things to say, simply move on. You don’t need a home run every time. God does the work of changing someone on the inside.
Chapter 8 — Perfecting Columbo
Peter says to always be “ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you” (1 Peter 3:15). So think ahead about what might come up, reflect afterward, and practice. The answers that sound quick and clever on the radio usually aren’t spontaneous at all. They were ready before the question came, the same way politicians prepare for debates. Write your answers down, then role-play them out loud, alone or with a friend.
And mind your manners. You want to put a stone in their shoe, not drop a rock on their head. Find common ground and assume the best about the other person’s motives, not the worst. Soften your challenges the way Columbo would: “I’m just curious,” or “Maybe I’m missing something.” And in front of a group, remember that you’re often trying to reach the people listening more than your opponent. Harshness never plays well with an audience.
Chapter 9 — Turnabout: Defending against Columbo
What happens when someone uses questions on you to set a trap? Koukl faced one in a national TV debate with the New Age author Deepak Chopra, who asked, “You’re saying that people who don’t believe just like you are going to hell?” It’s a hard question, because the correct answer, a simple yes, is wildly politically incorrect and easy to misunderstand.
So when you feel ambushed, slow down and ask for clarification. You might say, “That’s an interesting question, and a hasty answer may give you the wrong impression. What do you think is at stake here?” Or, “Help me out here. What exactly are you getting at?”
Some trick questions have a flaw you can bring into the open. An atheist might ask, “If there were no hell, would you still be a Christian?” But there would only be no hell if there were no sin, and then there’d be no need for a Savior. Even so, you’d still want the friendship with God he meant for people to have from the very beginning. Christians haven’t been rescued for something, a pleasant place called heaven, but for someone.
Other “questions” aren’t questions at all. “Who are you to say?” doesn’t ask for anything. It’s a statement in disguise, a cheap shot meant to silence you, not understand you. So answer with a real question of your own. Questions like these help you find the weak spots in a challenge. The rest of the book is about the weak spots that show up again and again.
Part Two — Finding the Flaws
Chapter 10 — Suicide: Views That Self-Destruct
Some views destroy themselves. “There are no absolutes.” Is that an absolute? “You can’t know anything for sure.” Are you sure about that? This tactic is called Suicide, and it rests on the law of noncontradiction: two contradictory statements can’t both be true at the same time. When a view contradicts itself, there’s no way to save it. Once you spot one, point it out with a question. When someone says, “There is no truth,” ask, “Is that statement true?"
"Only science gives reliable truth” is another one. What scientific test proved that? None did. It isn’t a finding of science. It’s a philosophical claim about science, so by its own standard, it’s unreliable. It saws off the branch it’s sitting on.
The idea that all religions are equally true self-destructs too. If all religions are true, then Christianity is true, and Christianity teaches that the others are false. On top of that, religions flatly disagree about God. Some forms of Hinduism teach that God is impersonal. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam teach that he’s personal. In Buddhism, the question of God doesn’t even matter. They can’t all be right.
Chapter 11 — Practical Suicide
Those views contradict themselves outright. Other views fail in practice. Picture someone who says, “I never say anything out loud.” He can’t say it without proving himself wrong. That’s Practical Suicide, a view you can believe but can’t act on. A radio caller once complained, “You shouldn’t be correcting Christian teachers publicly on the radio.” The reply was simple: “Then why are you calling to correct me publicly on my radio show?"
"It’s wrong to judge” works the same way. Using that rule to condemn someone for judging is itself a judgment. The philosopher Alvin Plantinga called this the “philosophical tar baby.” Get close enough to use the idea on someone else, and you’ll get stuck to it yourself.
Moral relativists, people who deny that right and wrong are universal, fall into this trap all the time. When one says, “You shouldn’t force your morality on other people,” ask, “Why not?” He can’t answer, “Because it’s wrong.” A relativist can argue for relativism all day, but he’ll still complain when someone cuts in front of him in line. And when he says people should never impose their values on others, ask if that’s one of his values. It is. So why is he imposing it on you?
Chapter 12 — Sibling Rivalry and Infanticide
Sometimes a person raises two objections that can’t both be true. That’s Sibling Rivalry. People who say a good God wouldn’t let evil happen are often the same people who say a loving God would never judge anyone. If God ignores evil, his goodness is questioned. If he punishes it, his love is questioned. Point out the conflict kindly and ask which one is the real concern.
A Hindu man once asked a Christian, “Is Gandhi in heaven? Heaven would be a very poor place without Gandhi in it.” Good people go to heaven, he explained. But when the Christian asked what makes a person good, the man said, “Good and bad are relative. There is no clear definition.” So how could he know Gandhi was good? Both claims can’t be true at the same time.
Infanticide is a close cousin. It happens when an objection depends on the very idea it denies, so the parent idea kills the child objection. The best example is the problem of evil. Instead of being a good argument against God, evil is one of the best evidences for him. To call something evil is to say it’s not the way it’s supposed to be. That makes no sense unless there’s a way things are supposed to be. Without that standard, complaining about evil is like saying, “I can’t believe in God, because brussels sprouts taste awful.”
C. S. Lewis ran into this when he was still an atheist. “My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I gotten this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call something crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line.” Michael Shermer, the atheist editor of Skeptic magazine, says, “Look, I’m an atheist, and I’m moral.” But the question isn’t whether an atheist can be moral. It’s whether he can explain morality in a universe without God. Shermer can live a good life because he still lives in God’s world.
Chapter 13 — Taking the Roof Off
Worldviews are like maps. If you follow one and end up somewhere strange, either one of the roads is drawn wrong, or you’ve got the wrong map. Taking the Roof Off tests the map. Boil a view down to its basic idea, follow it all the way, and see whether it leads somewhere absurd. Then invite the person to look at where their view ends up.
One popular argument says anything natural is also moral. Same-sex attraction is natural for gay people, the argument goes, so it’s moral. When a radio caller made this case, he was asked whether the same logic would justify gay bashing if scientists found a gay-bashing gene. Of course not. The right response would be to fight that urge, not give in to it. Being natural doesn’t make something moral.
Or take the belief that there’s no God and we evolved by chance. If that’s true, there’s no basic difference between animals and people. Yet we let a farmer separate the weak from the strong in his herd, and we’re horrified that Hitler did the same with people. That map can’t explain the horror we all feel.
Chapter 14 — Steamroller
Some people don’t resist Christianity for lack of evidence. They’re just plain pigheaded. Jesus said people love the darkness rather than the light because their deeds are evil (John 3:19). Deep rebellion against God is a problem only God can fix. You’ll often meet that stubbornness in a steamroller, someone who keeps interrupting and tries to flatten you with sheer force.
Don’t fire back, and don’t cave. First, make a friendly request for courtesy. “That’s a good question, and it deserves a decent answer, but that will take a few minutes. Are you okay with that?” If that doesn’t work, let him talk. When he finally pauses, calmly name the problem. “Do you really want a response from me? When you keep interrupting, I get the impression all you want is an audience. If you want an answer, you’ll have to give me time to respond.” And if he still won’t stop, you’re free to walk away. “I’m having a hard time getting my point across, so I’m going to just let this go for now. Thanks for your thoughts.”
Chapter 15 — Rhodes Scholar
Some challenges come with an expert attached: scholars have shown this, or scientists have proven that. Popular articles always inform, but they don’t always educate. They tell you what a scholar concluded without showing you how, so you just have to take his word for it. But scholars can be wrong. Sometimes they speak outside their field. And sometimes their philosophy rules God out before the evidence is even in. What an expert believes matters less than why he believes it. So look past the opinion and ask for the reasons. That’s the difference between being informed and being educated.
Chapter 16 — Just the Facts, Ma’am
The talk show host Dennis Prager tells his callers, “First tell the truth, then give your opinion.” An opinion is only as good as the facts under it. So when someone makes a factual claim, pin down exactly what it is, then check it.
Take the popular claim that religion has caused more bloodshed than anything else. Look up mass killings in an older copy of the Guinness Book of World Records, and you’ll find the worst carnage came from atheist regimes. More than 66 million Soviets were killed under Lenin, Stalin, and Khrushchev. Between 32 million and 61 million Chinese were killed under communist rule. About 2.7 million Cambodians died under the Khmer Rouge. The greatest evil hasn’t come from people zealous for God. It’s come from people convinced there’s no God they have to answer to. And when people do violence in Christ’s name, it goes against what he taught. It tells you something about people. It tells you nothing about God or the gospel.
Facts help with the Bible too. Why does God forbid killing in the Ten Commandments, then command it when Israel takes Canaan? The commandment actually says, “You shall not murder” (Exodus 20:13). Hebrew, like English, has different words for killing and murdering. Or take the verse everyone quotes: “Do not judge so that you will not be judged” (Matthew 7:1). Keep reading, and Jesus says to take the log out of your own eye, “and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.” He condemned hypocritical judgment, not all judgment. As Detective Joe Friday used to say, “Just the facts, ma’am.”
Chapter 17 — Inside Out
The Christian thinker Francis Schaeffer said, “Man is different from non-man.” People are special, unlike anything else in creation, “crowned with glory and honor,” as David put it (Psalms 8:5). Schaeffer called this “the mannishness of man.” God built certain truths into every person. Even when someone’s worldview denies those truths, they keep showing up in how the person talks and acts. Inside Out means listening for that gap.
A naturalist, someone who believes nature is all there is, can talk all day about human value, meaning, and rights. But given what he believes about reality, it’s all chaff in the wind. If life has no meaning, why try to talk someone out of suicide? Yet everyone would. Then there’s the restlessness every person feels, a longing to be filled, or maybe to be fixed. Distractions can quiet it, but nothing here can fill it. As C. S. Lewis wrote, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”
So listen for the moments when someone’s words or reactions tell the truth, even though their worldview tells a lie: that people have deep value, that we were made for a purpose, that we’re beautiful yet broken, and that our restless souls hunger for rescue. When a person’s heart contradicts their worldview, gently and graciously ask them about it.
Chapter 18 — Mini-Tactics
A few smaller moves round out the toolbox. First, get Jesus on your side. Ask what they think of him. Most people will call him a great teacher or a prophet. Then let Jesus do the arguing for you. Second, when someone calls you a name, ask what they mean by it. Ridicule isn’t an argument, and your question makes that plain.
Third, move toward the objection. Sometimes the best move is to agree, then show why the point doesn’t help their case. “The church is full of hypocrites.” Actually, it’s full of worse people than hypocrites, sinners of every kind. That’s why they need Jesus. “There’s so much evil in the world.” Of course there is. The Bible doesn’t just explain it. It predicts it. “The New Testament has more than 400,000 variant readings.” Of course it does. That’s what you’d expect from thousands of ancient copies, and those copies are exactly what let scholars rebuild the original.
Fourth, watch your language. Most travelers tune out the flight attendant’s announcements, and people outside the church tune out Christian lingo the same way. So instead of “the Bible says,” try “Jesus of Nazareth said.” It’s much easier to dismiss a religious book than the words of a respected teacher.
Last, use one small word: “So?” “Christians are stupid.” You’re right, some of them are. So? Christianity can still be true. “You’re only a Christian because you were raised in America.” Probably. So? That tells you nothing about whether any religion is true. Whenever someone attacks the person instead of the idea, it’s just trash talk.
Chapter 19 — More Sweat, Less Blood
There’s an old saying: “The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in battle.” So be ready, and keep it simple. If someone wants to leave, let them go. You don’t need to close the sale every time. God is in charge, and he’ll bring the next ambassador along to pick up where you left off. But don’t let them leave empty-handed. A copy of John’s gospel makes a great gift. It’s small, cheap, and all about Jesus.
If you want your church to care more about this, start with a few people who feel the same way. Gather the dry tinder, light a spark, and start a small fire. Once it catches, don’t be surprised if some of the wet wood around you starts to burn too. As Chuck Colson said, “Culture is most profoundly changed not by the efforts of huge institutions, but by individual people.”
Above all, know the truth. Tactics are not a substitute for knowledge. Cleverness without truth is manipulation. And don’t judge how a conversation went by its immediate, visible results.
So picture the ambassador you want to be. You’re ready, and you don’t back away from a challenge. You’re patient, listening to understand before you answer. You’re reasonable, and you won’t get stumped by the same challenge twice. You’re clear, fair, and honest, never overstating your case or understating what the gospel asks. You’re humble, gracious, and dependent on God, because your best efforts only work when they’re joined with his power. That’s the whole game plan. Know the truth, ask good questions, and treat people well. You don’t have to win the argument. Just get up to bat, put a stone in someone’s shoe, and trust God with the harvest.