The Adventure

I had always thought of being saved as a final destination, not a starting point.
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Twelve hours after accepting God's gift of salvation and becoming a follower of Jesus, I found myself crammed into the backseat of a van with a half-dozen other teens. My stomach churned and I bit my nails nervously. I felt like I might puke.
What am I doing here? I wondered. I just became a Christian last night. I'm not ready to share his love with others.
Yet even as I worried my stomach into knots, Mike's words kept running through my mind. Mike was one of the youth ministers here at the week-long youth retreat I was attending. He was the one who had talked and prayed with me about what it meant to commit myself to the Lord. He was with me through the process of making Jesus my Lord and Savior. I remembered how, afterward, Mike had looked at me and smiled.
"Now the adventure begins," he said.
Before that moment, I had always thought of being saved as a final destination, not a starting point. But according to Mike, the Christian life is an adventure, one in which we continue to grow in Christ every day and help others along the way. That was what we were preparing to do now, and that was that had me scared out of my wits.

Talking to Strangers

The van pulled over to the side of the road, and everyone piled out excitedly. I tried to hang back, but my friend Jamie yanked me out by the arm. "Come on!" she exclaimed. "This'll be fun!"
I could think of many activities that would be more fun than walking up to complete strangers and trying to witness to them--having a root canal, for instance, sounded like a blast right about now--but I didn't say so. Instead I follow Jamie outside to where Mike and the other leaders were unloading three coolers full of soda pop.
The plan was for us to pass out the soda to people in their cars as they stopped at the intersection. Attached to each can was a card with a Bible verse and an explanation that, just like this soda, God's love is free to whoever accepts it.

Quiet and Introverted

Immediately all the outgoing teens--in other words, everyone but me--began loading up on cans of soda.
Jamie made her rounds happily, bouncing from car to car like a rubber ball. She chatted cheerfully with every driver, explaining what we were doing and why, and calling out " "God bless you!" as each vehicle drove away.
Across the road, two guys from our group were praying with a woman who had pulled off to the side. All around me people were working for the Lord, yet I couldn't bring myself to step off the curb.
"Come on, Chrissy!" Jamie tossed me a can of soda.
"What's with you, anyway? You were totally into yesterday's service project."
"Yesterday we were doing yard work for the elderly," I reminded her. "That doesn't involved talking to people."

This witnessing to strangers at traffic lights was not my thing.
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I had loved the previous day's project. Working up a sweat pulling weeds and trimming bushes was something I was perfectly comfortable with. After all, I had worked as a gardener pretty much since I was old enough to use a shovel. But I was a quiet person. This witnessing to strangers at traffic lights was not my thing.

Please, Someone Else!

As I stood frozen to the curb, I happened to look up the street and notice a small group of city workers filling in potholes. It was a terribly hot and muggy day, and I knew from experience how miserable it is to work outdoors in these conditions. I jogged over to where Mike was still passing out cans of soda.
"Someone should take a few cans to those workers over there," I suggested. "They have to be hot."
"Good idea," said Mike, and he began filling my arms with soda cans.
"Wait a second!" I protested. "I kind of meant someone else should do it!"
Mike raised his eyebrows. I felt a need to explain.
"I know I'm supposed to want to do this," I sighed.
"It's like you're always saying: when we're filled with God's love and grace, we should want to share it others. And I do want to, I really do. I want to grow in Jesus and share the news of salvation and take part in the adventure of following Christ. I'm just not outgoing enough for this kind of witnessing. I can't do it!"
I fell silent, bit my lip, and waited for my youth leader's to response. Yet when it came, it was a surprise.

Nothing on Our Own

"Of course you can't do it!" Mike exclaimed. "You've been trying to get through this by yourself, under your own power. The Christian adventure is not something you embark on alone."
I stared at Mike. He had lost me.

"Of course you can't do it! You've been trying to get through this by yourself."
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"Look at it this way," he went on. "You're a gardener, right?" I nodded. "Well, God is like a gardener. Once we accept his gift of salvation, he works in us like a gardener works with plants--watering, fertilizing, pruning. It's God working in us that allows us to grow as Christians. We can't do it on our own. And do you want to know something else?"
"What?"
"Once we let God work in our lives, nothing can stop his work--not setbacks, not other people, not even our own fears." Mike piled two more cans of soda on top of those already balanced in my arms. "So how about it? Do you know what to do?"
I smiled tentatively. I was still scared, but I no longer felt alone.
"Toss another one on top," I said. "There are six workers over there."

God, Work in Me

In the end, I had to call Jamie over to hep me carry all the soda. My heart pounded in my chest as I neared the workers at the end of the street.
"Dear God," I prayed silently," please work in me and help me grow. And give me courage to work on you."
The road workers looked up as Jamie and I approached. I put on my biggest smile and extended a can of cold root beer. "Would you like a soda?" I asked.
"It's free--just like God's gift of salvation!"
The workers smiled, accepted the soda. . . and the adventure continued.

-by Christina Dotson

Looking for God

Sara wanted to talk to God, but when she was in so much pain, she couldn't find the words.
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A couple of years ago, I had the opportunity to take a short-term mission trip to a Native American reservation in Arizona. There I met a fourteen-year-old- girl named Sara. During the week, I learned a lot about her and a lot from her.

Sara's Family

Like many people on the reservation, Sara's life had not been easy. She came with some other teens to the service we were holding. Every night we played games, sang songs, had a message, and then met in small groups.
Sara said so much that week that no one ever could have guessed by looking at her. She seemed beautiful and happy. Instead, she was scared.
Sara's parents were around but did every little for her.
Her father often disappeared for days, usually returning home drunk. At night, Sara often lay in bed and would hear her mom crying. Once, while looking for something with the hall closet, Sara found a box of letters her mother had written. Some threatened suicide; others just talked about how sad she was.
Sara had a brother who was almost twenty years old.
She wished he could help her, but he had been in jail for the last few years. She said he was coming home in a couple more months, but that was even scarier because she didn't know what he would be like.
Lilly, Sara's younger sister, also came to the church that week. She was two years younger than Sara and just as trapped. Sara was sure God loved her younger sister more because Sara felt Lilly was prettier and smarter.

An Empty Sky

But Sara's greatest fear wasn't about her mother or father or brother or sister. Often, at night, when she didn't want to listen to her mother's crying anymore, she would climb out on the roof of their home to look at the stars.
The sky in Arizona is huge, and at night the desert is cool. There are almost no light besides the stars, so they appear much brighter than they do in cities.
When Sara talked about the stars, she cried because she didn't think they were pretty. They reminded her of times when she went out on the roof to pray, but couldn't; she always felt as if she were talking to an empty sky. Sara wanted to talk to God, but when she was in so much pain she couldn't find the words.
Sara was like Job in many ways. She believed God and wanted to serve him but didn't know how, because it seemed God had abandoned her. And, as with Job, Sara's family and friends didn't offer any help. Most of the people she knew didn't believed in God or Jesus.
Few people have as many problems in their lives as Sara did. Some may have brothers and sister who stay in trouble or parents who really don't care what their children do. Some may know only one person who believes in God or may not have a church in their community. But few have all these problems together.
But Sara persevered. Even when she didn't feel as if anyone was listening or she couldn't pray because she was too upset, she looked for God. She knew she was there, even if she couldn't see or hear him. The idea that one day he would answer her helped her keep trying.
On the last night of the trip. No one really wanted to leave because we all knew that if ever did see each other again, it would be a long time. But Sara said one thing before she left--it's remained with me since.
"I prayed last night," she said. "Nobody answered, but I'll keep trying."

-by Abby Conley

T-shirt Testimony

I knew I wasn't behaving like a Christian. Yet I convinced myself that id didn't matter.
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On a bright spring morning that seemed like a hundred other mornings, my alarm failed to ring and I woke up late for school. Frantically I threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and ran downstairs.
Right away I knew this was going to be one of those days when everything goes wrong.

Bad Attitude

"Why didn't you buy more milk?" I demanded of my mother when there wasn't enough for a single bowl of cereal. I then proceeded to snap at my kid brother for eating the last of the frozen waffles.
Once at school, I realized I had forgotten my algebra homework. When my teacher asked about it, I replied with a smart-aleck comment. My teacher stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head and walked away.
In science class we had pop quiz I wasn't prepared for. Feeling only slightly guilty, I accepted a friend's offer and copied the answers off his paper. It was only worth a few points anyway, I told myself. It's not a big deal.
At lunch, a girl accidentally spilled chocolate milk on my new sneakers. "Watch what you're doing!"
I exclaimed, ignoring her apology. "What are you, a three-year-old?"
I needed to relax after a day like that, so I went to the movies with my friends. Once at the theater, however, someone suggested that we should try to buy tickets for an R-rated movie. The workers were too busy to check our IDs, so we easily got in to see a very violent and sexually explicit film. Once again, I had doubts about what I was doing. I knew I wasn't behaving like a Christian. Yet I convinced myself that it didn't matter. After all, who was I hurting?

Only then did I notice the T-shirt I had carelessly thrown on that morning.
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It wasn't until late that night, as I got ready for bed, that I realized how much my actions throughout the day really did matter. For only then did I notice the T-shirt I had carelessly thrown on that morning. It was a T-shirt I had received at a church youth retreat, and it had the entire Lord's Prayer written across the front.
My heart dropped to my stomach as I thought about how I had been behaving all day--snapping at people, talking back, making bad choices--all the while wearing a shirt that proclaimed I was a Christian. Without even realizing it, I had been dishonoring God's name from the moment I got dressed.

Bad Example

When we think about misusing the name of the Lord, we often think of using it as a curse word. Yet there are many other ways to dishonor God's name. Every time we go to church, pray in public, carry a Bible, talk about our faith, or do anything else that declares us as followers of God, we become representatives of his name. And when our actions contradict what we claim to believe, we bring disgrace to the Lord's name.
I shudder to think what my algebra teacher must have thought of me as I wore my Lord's Prayer T-shirt
while talking back to him. And what sort of message was I sending my friends when I agreed to cheat on the science quiz and watch an inappropriate movie?
I was a walking billboard for God that day, just as we all are when we profess to have Jesus in our hearts. My T-shirt should have been a testimony of my faith, yet instead of uplifting the Lord's name, I brought only dishonor.
The next time you clothe yourself in God's name, make sure your actions match your claim to Christianity. Only then can you truly honor Him.

-by Christina Dotson

I Lost My Cool

My fight wasn't the glorious achievement I imagined to be.
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For a long time I bragged about my very first fistfight.
I told and retold the story to any friend who would listen. I thought it was something to be proud of.
The fight had been against three of my cousins. We were vacationing at the beach, and they had done nothing but torment me all day long. They dumped sand in my hair, threw my towel in the water, and tried to dunk me under every chance they got. Finally, I'd had enough.
When my cousins Brian and Justin splashed another huge spray of seawater in my face, I lost it. The next thing I knew I was kneeling on Brian's back, holding him underwater as I reached over and slugged Justin.
My cousin Steven jumped on my back and I kicked him off. I was so furious I barely knew what was happening. My mother and two uncles had to drag us apart.
That'll teach them to mess with me, I thought. I was so proud of myself. I had held my own in a fight against three guys. I had every right to be pleased. . . . didn't I?
It took me longer than it should have, but I eventually came to realize my fight wasn't the glorious achievement I imagined it to be. I had to learn the hard way the many reasons why uncontrolled anger is nothing to take pride in.

Uncontrolled anger makes you do things you'll regret.

After the fight with my cousins, my mother told me that she had been afraid I was going to drown Brian, since I held him underwater for so long. What was even scarier, though, was that I didn't even realize what I was doing.
That's the problem with losing your temper--it makes you lose control of yourself. And when that happens, you may end up doing or saying terrible things you'll never be able to take back.

Uncontrolled anger makes a bad situation worse.

Fighting didn't fix anything between me and my cousins. It only made them torment me more. . . .which of course lead me to continue fighting. Before I knew it we were locked in a vicious cycle of anger and bickering. Neither side wanted to back down.
If only I had kept my cool in the first place, our feud probably wouldn't have lasted so long. This is why the Bible advises us to "refrain from anger and turn from wrath. . . it leads only to evil" (Psalm 37:8). Losing your temper will only make the situation go from bad to worse.

Uncontrolled anger destroys relationships.

The tension between my cousins and I eventually got so bad we could barely stand to be in the same room.
Family get-together were always awkward. The four of us were all about the same age, so we should have been able to hang out. But our years of fighting had created a rift that took a long time to repair.
This is often what happens when you lose control of your anger--you lose the chance to share in some potentially great relationships.
There's nothing wonderful or exciting about fighting, either with words or fists. Even if you think you have good reason to do so, the consequences just aren't worth it.
In the long run, it's a whole lot smarter to just keep you cool.
-by Christina Dotson

BUSTED!

"Faster," my friends urged. I grinned smugly and pressed hard on the accelerator.
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As we rolled up and down hills and banked sharp curves, I kept pressing the accelerator for more speed. I wanted to see how fast I could make Dad's Chevy go on this hilly and winding country road. It was like riding a roller coaster.
Since most of my friends didn't have their licenses yet, I was the cool guy who drove everyone around.
So, of course, I had to show off whenever I could.
"Faster," my friends urged. I grinned smugly and pressed hard on the accelerator. At the crest of a hill, we went airborne and then the car quickly jolted back onto the road with a loud thud.
My friends went crazy.
"Yeah!"
"Awesome!"
Right after I cleared the top of another hill, my heart jumped as I spotted a cop car hidden behind some bushes. I'd caught the blurred shadow of a man pointing a radar gun out the window. . . right at me.
Instinctively, I slammed on my brakes and skidded past the officer as he fishtailed his car onto the road and sped up behind me with his lights flashing.
Busted.

Slowing Down

"You've gotta be kidding!" I groaned in frustration as my mom's warning echoed in my head.
"You'd better slow down," she had recently told me.
"If you get a ticket, I'm confiscating your license."
Even when I was driving with Mom in the car, I had a tendency to push the speed limit. I'm sure she could only imagine how fast I drove when she wasn't around.
As the burly officer approached my car, ticket pad in hand, my stomach churned.
Mom and Dad are gonna kill me!
My heart pounded hard as I rolled down my window.
"Son, do you realize you were going fifty-nine in a thirty-five mile per hour zone?" the officer asked me in his deep southern drawl.
I desperately searched my thoughts for a reasonable excuse. Then it hit me. I remembered my driver's education instructor reminding us to watch our speed after leaving the highway. He had warned that an extended period of high-speed driving on the highway can make you feel like you're going slower than you really are.
He even had a word for it that came to me--and just in time.
"Uh, I'm not sure. . ." I responded as I strained to keep my voice from quivering. "But I think I must have been velocitized."
The cop crinkled up his eyebrows and looked at me like I was crazy. Clearly, my brilliant excuse hadn't worked. When he handed me a ticket, my stomach dropped. I knew some older guys who'd gotten tickets from the country sheriff's department, and their parents had received a letter telling them all about what happened. Now my parents would get a similar letter.
Great I'm toast.

Keeping Quiet

As I drove home at that afternoon--slowly--all i could think about was how to save myself. Save myself from humiliation of having to tell my friends that my parents had taken my license. Save myself from the lecture I'd get from my dad, who, ironically, was a driver's ed teacher. Save myself from the painful and inevitable grounding that would surely follow. And I didn't want to be grounded because I had plans to go camping with friends. So I kept quiet.
That evening as my buddies and I sat around the roaring bonfire, we brainstormed ways I could intercept the letter before my folks saw it.
"For the next week, you gotta get to the mailbox before your parents do," Cole said.
"That's not gonna work," I replied. "They're both teachers. Some days Dad's home by 3:15."
"Well, is there anyone in your neighborhood you trust who could check the mail for you before your parents got home?" John asked as he tossed another log on the fire.
Someone I trust.
I couldn't help but get stuck on that word: trust.
There we were, weeding through possible scenarios of how I could hide the truth from my family, and I was thinking of who I could trust to do something dishonest for me. It didn't seem right, but it keep those thoughts to myself.

I had messed up--not just by getting the speeding ticket but also by not telling Mom and Dad about it.
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We stayed up late playing cards, eating junk foods, and talking sports, but I couldn't enjoy myself. Guilt and shame washed over me All I could do was think about how I had messed up--not just by getting the speeding ticket but also by not telling Mom and Dad.

Coming Clean

The next morning while my buddies were still sleeping, I went for a walk in the woods to be alone with God.
"Dear Lord," I prayed as I made my way down a dirt path. "I've messed up--big time. Of course, you already know that."
Bright sunshine streamed through the thick tree branches, reminding me once again of God's wonder and beauty.
"I'm so sorry for how I've been acting. When I got that ticket, I freaked out. I panicked and stopped thinking clearly.
"I'm sorry, God, for driving carelessly and for not being honest with Mom and Dad. Please give me the courage to tell them what I did. I don't want them to be ashamed of me, but mostly I don't want to disappoint you. Please forgive me Lord."
That evening at dinner I took a deep breath and said,
"Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you." I thought it would be best if I blurted it out quickly and painlessly, like ripping a bandage from your skin.
"I was busted yesterday for speeding," I said quietly.
Mom looked at me with fire in her eyes.
Dad just nodded and said, "Your Uncle Roger mentioned that he saw you. He passed you when you where pulled over."
I braced for myself for the third degree, but my parents' reaction surprised me. They were definitely disappointed, and they did take away my wheels for two months, but they also did something I wasn't expecting. After going on and on about how dangerous speeding is, they hugged me, thanked God for keeping me safe, and told me that they appreciated my honestly.

My parent's reaction surprised me.
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I must admit, it felt good to tell the truth. And as far as my ticket, I lucked out. Because it was my first offense, I only had to pay the minimum fine. I also had to attend a six-week defensive driving course.
The sting of having to face my friends without a license was the toughest part. Without my car I was no longer the cool guy with the fast ride.
But that's OK I've learned there is something better than that need for speed. It's the feeling that comes from acting in a way that pleases God.
-by Todd Casbon

A Coffee House Witness

I had never shared so close a space with anyone who looked like him.
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We need to take advantage of every opportunity to share the good news of Christ Jesus. I firmly believe the Word of God and the truth of the gospel message and know, without doubt, that accepting Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior is the only way to life everlasting. Yet as much as I know this to be true, I find myself afraid to share this saving news with those around me.
I feel like I am too young, too inexperienced, or just too shy. I become easily flustered when the subject of God comes up around non-Christians, who appear to have all the answers for not believing in Jesus. It seems every time I watch a movie or read a modern book, the teenagers hate church or mock God. I am afraid that if I speak about being a Christian, my peers will immediately categorize me as uncool or a religious freak who would never do anything fun. So, most of the time, I bite my tongue and just listen with guilt as they mock my Lord. I'm ashamed of my many lost opportunities to share Christ with lost people.

Strange-looking Stranger

One day I was hanging out in a coffee shop doing homework and my daily devotions, which involve reading a few chapters of the Bible. The shop was particularly busy that day, and a guy asked if he could share my table. I agreed and thought nothing of it until he took the chair across from mine.
Looking up, I was surprised to see a very gothic-looking guy--with dyed long black hair, too many piercings to count, and, to my horror, a shirt printed with satanic symbols! I had never shared so close a space with anyone who looked liked him. I felt uneasy. Here was I reading the Bible; he probably hated Christians. I kept my head down, trying to concentrate on the words, but my mind kept wandering back to my strange tablemate.
Much to my despair, he spoke to me.
"You're reading the Bible," he said.
Oh no, I thought. Is he going to start cursing God or saying horrible things about Christians?
I looked up and forced a smile, "Yes, I read it almost every day." Why had I said that? I didn't want to evoke a conversation with this dark stranger!
"So, you're a Christian? he asked.
"Yes," I answered, still smiling I didn't want him to know I was intimidated.
"I've studied different religions," he informed me.
"Well, I am not religious," I reported. "I just believe in Jesus Christ as my Savior." Where did that come from?
Why did I need to share my beliefs with this stranger?
"You believe there is only one true religion?"
Oh, Lord, I thought. I am so bad at this! What do I say?
My words always come out wrong. I pleaded to God to give me the right thing to say.
"Yes," I answered," but I wouldn't use the word religion. I believe there is only one way to God and heaven, which is through his Son, Jesus Christ."
"I don't believe in heaven like that. I think it's different for everyone."
"I think there is only one heaven and only one way to get there.

The Answers I Needed

I wondered if he could hear the trembling in my voice, for I couldn't believe I was having this conversation. As we talked I kept a silent prayer going in my head. I felt like I didn't know what to say, but I kept coming up with answers. I studied the guy and was surprised to find he had a nice face and it was actually easy to talk with him.

Though I felt unprepared and even nervous about sharing my faith, God gave me the answers I needed.
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The guy told me he thought all religions were right.
I disagreed, saying there was only one God and one way to him--through Jesus Christ. Though I felt unprepared and even nervous about sharing my faith with a complete stranger, God gave me the answers I needed when I needed them. Jesus was with me the whole time! I didn't have great answers, but I gave correct ones, and I feel certain the Lord was able to use me in spite of my youth and fear.
I may never know what happened with the guy in the coffee shop, but I am certain the Lord equipped me to be his ambassador that day. God often uses many people to reach one person. We are all to be laborers in the field God has prepared--some may plant, others may water--but the Lord will bring in the harvest. Often we do not see the end result of our labor, but we can trust that God has a plan. Our job is simply to obey his command to tell the world about Jesus Christ.
You never know when you will have an opportunity to share the Lord with someone. If you are listening to the Holy Spirit's prompting, you too will be ready for such an encounter.
- by Emily Downs

I Felt Like A Loser

"So? What did you get on the SAT?"
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As soon as I stepped into my first class, I wished I'd stayed home from school. It's not like I would've had to fake being sick. My stomach twisted uncomfortably as I listened to everybody else comparing SAT scores

No Comparison

My friend Mindy was way too bubbly.
"So? What did you get on the SAT?" she asked in a high-pitched squeal.
Before I had a chance to dodge the question, she continued her annoying chatter.
"I did awesome!" Mindy said as she blurted out her score. "How did you do?"
"Not that well," I said softly as I glanced up at the clock, hoping the teacher would get the class started.
"Oh, whatever. I know you did great," she insisted.
Mindy's broad, cherry smile only made me feel worse.
I remained quiet and simply plopped down in my chair and unzipped my book bag. I desperately wanted to avoid anymore SAT chatter, but I couldn't escape it--not in that class or anywhere else. The buzz was the same all over school--in the hallways, the cafeteria, the parking lot. It seemed everyone was comparing scores. I was relieved when the day finally ended and I could go home and get away from it all.

Too Much Pressure

When Mom walked through the door and found me scarfing ice cream straight from the carton, she knew something was wrong. I told her all about my gloating classmates.
"So what if some of them did better?" Mom asked.
"Your score is still really good."
"Not good enough," I sighed as I pitifully plunged my spoon back into the Rocky Road. "This test totally determines my future!"
"Don't put so much pressure on yourself, honey,"
Mom said. "I know how hard you worked to prepare, and that's all you can do."
"No!" I defiantly shook my head. "I'm gonna retake the test again. I'll improve my score even if it kills me!"
"I don't like the pressure you're putting on yourself,"
Mom repeated. "Promise me that you'll let God help you next time around."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I want you to do your best, then leave it in God's hands."
Easy for you to say, I thought, irritated by how easy she made it sound. She'd obviously forgotten what it was like to be in my shoes.
"I wanna be a veterinarian, and to do that I need the right test scores to get into college," I insisted. "It's not like praying will get me a degree."
Mom sat in silent thought for a moment, then said gently, "If you pray for the strength and courage to trust in God, and if you truly believe things will ultimately work out the way the Lord intends, you'll feel a lot better."

Sense of Peace

While I was far from convinced, I still tried to follow Mom's adviced. In the weeks leading up to the exam, I talked to my friends in youth group about my testing anxieties. And each evening before bed, I read Scriptures and said a prayer that went something like this:
"If it's your will, Lord, please give me the knowledge and strength to do well on this test. But also help me remember that my life will always be OK as long as I trust and love you with all my heart and soul."

"If you pray for the strength and courage to trust in God, you'll feel a lot better."
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Finally, the big day arrived. Driving to the testing site, I remembered one of the verses I'd studied: "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of Holy Spirit" (Romans 15:13). As I took a deep breath and said a little prayer, a sense of peace washed over me.
When I entered the testing room, I felt different than when I took the exam the first time. This time my head didn't pound, my stomach didn't churn, and my hands didn't tremble in fear. In fact, I felt amazingly calm knowing that regardless of how I scored on this test--or any test, for that matter--my future was in the hands of a loving God I could really trust.

-by Meryl Herran