Two years ago I took an Evangelism class—a seminary graduation requirement I had put off. Rehearsing for disaster, I envisioned a mandatory assignment that would leave me covered in eggs and tomatoes. Although my hair would have shone like the sun, I would have preferred a night of thumb-hammering over having to share the gospel with strangers at a grocery store.                 I remembered from Systematic Theology 101 that we cannot prove that the Bible is true. Awesome. At least this frees me to believe without the pressure to convince mockers why I believe. But my eczema still wouldn’t fare well under splattered…