Why Street Evangelism’s ‘False Accusation’ Playbook Is So Dangerous

Ray Comfort says a woman “falsely accused” him of chasing her after he approached her for street evangelism in Southern California. The bestselling author and Living Waters ministry founder called it a “bizarre incident” and insists he was simply sharing the Gospel when the woman complained about his behavior. Here’s the thing: This isn’t bizarre at all. It’s exactly how street evangelism’s victim-blaming playbook works (and why it’s so harmful to communities everywhere). Look, I know Comfort has millions of followers who see him as a faithful witness. But when someone approaches you uninvited on the street to tell you about your sin and eternal damnation, and you feel uncomfortable or threatened—that’s not a “false accusation.” That’s a normal human response to aggressive religious solicitation. The “false accusation” narrative does something insidious: It automatically frames any negative response to unwanted evangelism as persecution of Christians rather than legitimate complaints about intrusive behavior. (Because nothing says “God’s love” like refusing to consider that maybe your approach made someone genuinely uncomfortable.) Street evangelists like Comfort operate with a built-in defense mechanism. If people respond positively, it’s God working. If they respond negatively or complain, they’re lying, deceived, or attacking the faith. This creates a closed system where the evangelist can never be wrong—only misunderstood or persecuted. This matters because street evangelism often targets vulnerable populations. Former practitioners describe being taught to approach people at bus stops, outside clinics, or in other situations where targets can’t easily leave. When someone in that position says they felt harassed or chased, dismissing their experience as “false” sends a chilling message to other potential complainants. The psychological manipulation runs deeper. Comfort’s ministry trains evangelists to use high-pressure tactics: confronting strangers about sin, pushing for immediate decisions, and persisting despite clear discomfort. When recipients of this treatment speak up, they’re gaslit into believing their discomfort is spiritual resistance rather than a reasonable response to boundary violations. Mental health professionals note that aggressive street evangelism can trigger anxiety, PTSD, and religious trauma responses—especially in people from controlling religious backgrounds. But the “false accusation” framework pre-emptively invalidates these real psychological harms. The broader evangelical community needs to grapple with this pattern. How many women, LGBTQ+ individuals, or religious minorities have been dismissed as “false accusers” when they reported feeling threatened by overzealous evangelists? How many legitimate complaints have been buried under cries of “persecution”? True Christian witness doesn’t require dismissing others’ experiences as lies. It doesn’t demand that people accept unwanted religious conversations without complaint. And it certainly doesn’t involve pre-emptively framing any negative feedback as false accusations. When evangelists automatically assume accusers are lying rather than examining whether their own behavior might be problematic, they’re not protecting the Gospel—they’re protecting a system that prioritizes their comfort over others’ safety and dignity. Source: The Christian Post