For the entire spring semester, the college group at University Church has been studying the book of Galations. It’s a wonderful and very convicting book that tells us to give up everything that’s holding us back from the promise that God has given us through his Son. I’ve known this for a long time and Galations has only reinforced the fact that I am far from perfect. I sometimes however feel perfect. There is a story in the bible of a Pharisee and a tax collector. The Pharisee praises himself to God while the tax collector beats his own chest in doing the exact opposite. Please understand, I’m not in any way trying to do that. But from a third person point of view who knows little or nothing about me, what flaws do I have? I’ve grown up in the same church my whole life. I’ve been part of a wonderful youth ministry and am now part of a wonderful college ministry. I’ve never had a sip of alcohol, except for the time at Disney World when I had mistaken a European beer for a soda in some kind of drink factory. It was disgusting by the way. I’ve never touched a cigarette with the intention of smoking it. I’ve never been in a situation with a woman. You know what I mean. So that makes me perfect right? Someone might say I’m pretty close. I hate that. While in Morrilton for a college state retreat, I met a man named Justin (I think that’s what his name was). Justin had done and sold drugs for many years before being shown the light of Christ. What a ministry! When he someday in the future runs into a teenager who is making the same mistake, he has a light to shine on him. If Justin would choose to become a minister someday, he has every evidence of hope for those who are lost. Pretty amazing huh? Well, I’ve got nothing on that. If a lost child of God were to ask me for evidence of hope, what can I say to them? I’ve never been through what they’re going through. How can I tell them there is hope when I’ve never needed to be told like they do. I have always had someone to encourage me and tell me of God’s love and promise. I’m working at Camp Wyldewood this summer. If a teen comes to me asking what to do about his broken family, what am I supposed to say? The only family I’ve ever known is an amazing one who has encouraged me in everything I’ve done. Why should he/she believe me when I say there is hope to climb out of the hole they’re in?

Maybe there’s nothing I can say to comfort them. Maybe God is deciding to bless me in other ways than having a ministry for all of those who are lost. I don’t know. Whatever I’m supposed to do, I pray that God will send someone my way and perhaps further reveal part of my mission for him.