An objection frequently raised is, “If everyone will eventually be redeemed, then why evangelize?”

During one of the Iranian missile attacks here in Israel (June 2025), a siren sounded and chaos erupted. Everyone scrambled for shelter. People who happened to be on the street rushed into the nearest bomb shelter—just across from us—desperate for safety. In the midst of this, a family—all adults, ironically Russian “Christians” with the father wearing a large cross—became angry, insisting that only residents of the nearby buildings should be allowed in. They wanted the doors locked, to keep “outsiders” out.

Later, I sat with the son, a young man, who was still visibly upset that strangers had sought safety in “their” shelter. I told him I understood the practical limits—sometimes a shelter can be overcrowded and unsafe for all. But in this case, there was plenty of space. I sensed this was not a practical concern, but something deeper—an emotional wall. So I asked him, “Don’t you care about these people? What if you closed the door, and they died from a missile strike—how would you feel?” He answered, almost numbly, “I don’t feel anything anymore.” I gently pressed, “Why? Did something happen to you in the past?” His eyes filled with tears as he confessed, “I did something terrible when I was young and stupid. Since then, I don’t care because I don’t feel anything anymore.”

Now, to those who wonder why we bother sharing the gospel if every knee will eventually bow:

Does the gospel matter to a person like that? Can the good news help someone who feels dead inside? Could hearing about the forgiveness he already has in Christ help heal his soul? Can the gospel breathe new life into his zombie heart—or all the gospel has to offer is a ticket to heaven after death?

And what about all the Jewish mothers whose beloved children were kidnapped by Hamas terrorists to Gaza and killed in 2023? Can the gospel—the good news that everyone will be resurrected and live again—breathe hope and life back into their shattered souls? Will knowing they will one day see their loved ones again give them Divine hope? Is God really so exclusive and selective that the gospel is relevant only to a chosen few, as some believe? Or is the good news truly being good news and meant for all—for every hurting, searching, and broken soul?

The beauty of the gospel is that it’s not limited to individuals—it has the power to transform whole societies. Let me ask you: have you ever been to Syria, Afghanistan, North Korea, Sudan, or Yemen? Don’t you think these nations could benefit from the same Judeo-Christian values that have shaped and blessed the West? The message of the gospel isn’t just personal; it’s a gift meant for the healing and renewal of entire cultures.

But honestly, the very fact that we find ourselves wrestling with this objection reveals just how far the Western gospel has drifted from its original message in the first century. The questions we ask today expose a disconnect between the life-giving, present-tense gospel proclaimed by Jesus and His apostles, and the reduced version many have inherited—a gospel preoccupied with the afterlife, rather than transformation here and now.

The point of sharing the gospel is not simply to save people from some afterlife hell. The gospel is meant to rescue people from the hell they’re living in right now. It’s about offering real hope to the lost and hurting, awakening compassion where numbness has taken over, bringing new life where the soul has gone cold. The gospel isn’t just a promise for the future—it’s an invitation to be made whole now, to breathe again, to live as we were created to live.

That’s why we share it—even if God’s mercy will reach everyone in the end: Because people need to be saved from the hell they already live in, today.

You evangelize because you love.

You evangelize because you want people to truly live.

You evangelize because life has come into the world — and its name is Jesus.

You evangelize because love cannot sit still.

You evangelize because healed hearts heal others.

You evangelize because forgiven people forgive.

You evangelize because to know Jesus is to overflow with the life He gives — a life that cannot help but spill outward.

Evangelism is not recruitment into a survival bunker. It’s an invitation into the healing flood of God’s restoration.

We evangelize because we have tasted something beautiful — and beauty demands to be shared.

We evangelize because we have seen the face of love — and love demands to be reflected.

We evangelize because the Kingdom of God is not just something we wait for — it is something we build, one act of kindness, one word of truth, one spark of mercy at a time.

This was an excerpt from my upcoming book, “The Gospel Before Christianity: A Jewish Perspective on Jesus’ Atonement, Sacrifice, and Redemption”: