I met Christian at Mr. Goodies for a High School Ministry function. He was cold and wore a chip on his shoulder like steel plate armor. I looked in his eyes and I saw pain, confusion, anger, and boredom. I'm drawn to people like that, and I liked him immediately.
I soon learned he was wearing an ankle bracelet, was on probation, and had recently gotten out of juvenile detention.
Because of his legal situation, I couldn't drive Christian to coffee shops to shower him with jokes and ply him with questions as is normally my custom with high school students. So I just showed up to his door with enough coffee for his whole family. I was wearing a uniform shirt I had bought at a thrift store and his mom thought I was the cops; I scared her half to death. High school Ministry brings me close to the parents of students as often as the students themselves, and his mom and I —who are now good friends —often still laugh about that first meeting.
That was the first of many Saturday mornings I spent at their house, drinking coffee and talking to Christian. Through the process I got to hear the things he'd been through which had shaped him. I met and eventually mentored his older brother, and even counseled and encouraged his parents through the dark, discouraging times that soon followed. And dark times did come.
One of the most difficult things to learn in my time in High School Ministry has been that there aren't always easy fixes or immediate happy endings. I don't have a magic wand, and though we met and talked and laughed and prayed, Christian didn't immediately get better. As soon as he was off probation, he went back to his old ways.
I remember house-sitting for his parents when they went out of town and coming home to weed on the counter and beer everywhere in a house full of high school students. Sometimes in this ministry you get more than you bargained for, and that night was one of those times.
Years went by like this. Christian would call me when he needed help or became too depressed even to party. When he got in trouble with the law. When his friend committed suicide.
Sometimes I gave a lot, and sometimes I gave a little, but I gave what I had and prayed a lot. You learn pretty quickly, working with high school students, that's about all you can do. No human being can meet the endless void of a troubled teen's needs and desires. Only Jesus can do that, so I kept pointing him back to Jesus. Sometimes in person, sometimes in texts, sometimes in letters to him as he languished in prison. I didn't know if I was doing any good, I just loved him and wanted him to know God loved him too.
A few weeks ago I didn't know if I'd ever hear from Christian again. But then I got a short text asking to hang out. I met with him, and with a softness in his eyes I'd never seen before, he told me that after what could have been a deadly car accident, yet another brush with the law and getting his fiancé pregnant, Christian had decided to follow Jesus.
I hate to admit it, but my first reaction was skepticism. I asked questions. I prayed. I asked more questions, and his faith stood up to examination and scrutiny. My cold-hearted, hard-eyed friend had become a follower of Jesus.
Stories like Christians' remind me of the passage in Luke 15, where Luke tells a story about a man who has a hundred sheep. You know the story: the man loses one sheep and leaves the other ninety-nine to find it. He searches high and low, finally finding the sheep. He's so excited that he comes home and invites all his friends and neighbors to come on over and celebrate. Jesus ends the parable by saying, "I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who do not need to repent."
As I write this I have plans to work out with Christian later today. Last night we played video games together, ate pizza and talked late into the night about what it means to follow Jesus.
I've talked to a lot of people through the years who seem to think serving in High School Ministry is impossibly difficult, and the truth is it's not always easy, doing what we do. Think back to your time in high school. Do you remember how weird, messy, emotional, and uncomfortable it could be at times? We work with that.
There are probably fifty students similar to Christian that I've mentored through the years who I may never hear from again, but to be able to welcome a lost sheep home is the highest form of rejoicing.
Is it easy? Not always. Is it worth it? Absolutely. Every time.