Several years ago, a woman greeted me in a cheery, elderly voice as Jules, my former guide dog, and I approached an intersection.

“Hi,” I said, not interested in striking up a conversation. I was in a hurry; I needed to listen for the sound of approaching cars so I could determine when it was safe to cross the street; and, based on a lifetime of similar experiences, I anticipated having to answer intrusive questions about my blindness.

“I have a dog, too,” she chirped.

“I noticed,” I said, hearing its panting as it tried to sniff Jules.

“She’s a golden retriever,” the woman explained, making no audible effort to control it.

“Oh,” I mumbled, trying to keep Jules focused on me.

“Did you know that God restores sight to 4,679 blind people every day?” she asked.

“Um,” I said, cringing inwardly. People who are blind and/or with other physical disabilities complain to anyone who will listen about complete strangers stopping us on the street to tell us that God will heal us if we have enough faith, or that we will go to hell unless we accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

“I read about it in a Russian magazine,” she continued.

I was vaguely curious about the magazine’s name, and how its reporter came up with that particular number.

“All you need is enough faith,” she continued.

I couldn’t help wondering how many people God allows to become blind every day; after all, if He is all-powerful and always present—

Her voice quivered with excitement. “Would it be OK if I prayed with you?”

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to be rude. I picked up Jules’ harness and urged him “forward.” “But I’m in a hurry.”

“God bless you,” she called after us, “and remember that God restores sight to 4,679 blind people every day.”

“God bless,” I called over my shoulder, trying not to smirk.

For years, I thought that only people with physical disabilities had to face this irritation until I heard about pro-life “prayer warriors” shouting at women entering clinics where abortions are performed that they will go to hell if they murder their unborn babies. Several years later, I found myself leading a dialogue between employees who were gay and employees who called themselves Christians as part of a diversity training program for a large federal agency. The gay employees complained about receiving daily Bible quotes from their Christian colleagues who viewed them as uplifting. Towards the end of the discussion, I encouraged the Christian employees to stop sending the e-mails.

“But we have every right to do this,” someone protested.

“Of course you do,” I agreed. “But you’ve received plenty of feedback that these messages are making it more difficult for them to accept what you’re trying to share.”

(I also encouraged the employees who were gay to delete these messages and move on.)

So I ask those who feel compelled to invade the space of strangers to share the Gospel to consider the possibility that your approach conveys contempt to those at whom you are talking and is theologically flawed. Instead, think about building some trust with the person you’re trying to reach by finding common experiences, interests, and values. Remember that most people unfamiliar with church culture are more interested in loving behaviors instead of being hit with Bible snippets. And when it feels right to share your Christian journey, give space for the Holy Spirit to do its work.

And to all of us who have endured these drive-by evangelism experiences, let’s do a better job of showing a bit more grace. Perhaps, for example, if I had been a little more patient with that woman at the intersection, I could have asked to pray for her after she prayed for me. In my prayer, I might have asked for a more open mind, increased patience, and for God to show her that being blind, while often a major nuisance, was not the smothering obstacle she seemed to believe. Perhaps, we both could have learned something from this encounter or started some sort of relationship, but even if nothing had happened, grace lingers and often causes unexpected blessings.