The first stirring in my soul that I can remember was at a Billy Graham crusade when I was seven. I asked my mom if I could go forward. That marked the beginning of my spiritual journey. My faith was nurtured by a supportive family and good youth leaders at church. By the time I entered adolescence I was still serious about my relationship with God. That’s when I began to learn the relationship between integrity in youth ministry and outreach to others.
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A Lesson in Integrity in Youth Ministry
I maintained a fairly consistent daily quiet time, usually each afternoon when I got home from school. It was during one of these quiet times that I heard a Voice – not audible but clear. It was a very strong impression that I should go ask Uncle Billy, the neighborhood drunk who lived across the street, if he was ready to meet God. The thought terrified me. I had always avoided Uncle Billy as he stumbled down the sidewalk, never once had a conversation with him. He lived alone in the other half of a duplex where my schoolmate Jimmy lived. He was Jimmy’s alcoholic uncle.
I couldn’t do it! I just couldn’t bring myself to approaching a virtual stranger and asking him such a personal question. I abandoned my devotional time and went out to play. But a heaviness in my chest would not leave. I returned to my bedroom to seek relief. The Voice was unrelenting. After agonizing moments – that seemed like hours – I finally bargained to walk across to Uncle Billy’s front porch and if he was sitting outside I would ask him. But as I walked past he was not on his porch – such a great relief! So once again I headed down the street to play.
But the heaviness would not leave. Reluctantly, I returned to my room once again. The Voice was clear as ever. “Go ask Uncle Billy if he is ready to meet God.” None of my objections or fears was sufficient to overcome its persistent power. It was a wrestling match that I would not win – not unless I wanted to willfully disobey and run away from God. But the story of Jonah reminded me that running from God was not a good alternative.
I finally gave in. I summoned all my courage, walked across to Uncle Billy’s duplex and knocked on his front door. He opened it and greeted me. He was sober. He invited me in and after exchanging a few awkward “how you doing” words, I blurted out the question that had been so forcefully impressed on my mind: “Are you ready to meet God?” He walked over to a bookcase and removed a dusty family bible – it was a German version. He opened it to a section that contained handwritten records and pointed to a page that bore his name – his baptismal certificate. And on the facing page, the record of his confirmation. I knew nothing of the significance of these documents nor of the religious traditions of his German heritage. And so I innocently asked once again: “But are you ready to meet God?” He thought about my question for a moment and then replied: “I think I’m OK.” The heaviness left my chest.
