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Joy Williams: "I Felt Stuck in My Faith"

When her spiritual walk slowed to a crawl, Grammy-winning artist Joy Williams turned to her mentor to get things going again.

You're such a prude." Joy Williams heard that line plenty in high school, but she'd just smile and keep moving. She figured it just came with the territory of being a pastor's kid who was serious about her Christian faith.

People looked at her and saw something different—in the way she acted, the way she talked. On the outside, she looked like a model Christian who had it all together—straight-A student, sports star, all-around leader. But inside, well, that was a different story.

"I felt uncool," says Joy. "I felt self-conscious. And I felt stuck in my faith. I wasn't growing."

Joy needed a jumpstart.

That's where a young teacher at her high school came into the picture. Hillary Brubaker, just a couple years out of college, had something Joy wanted: Faith that was real.

"Hillary was the spunkiest, most carbonated, wonderfully devoted woman of faith I've ever met," says Joy, now a Grammy-winning solo artist, formerly half of the duo The Civil Wars. "I wanted to be like her."

Late in her sophomore year, Joy went to Hillary and said, "I see where you are with your faith, and I know where I want to be. You're closer to that goal than I am, so I want to hang with you."

So they hung—on lunch breaks, after school in coffee shops, and on occasional Girls Nights Out on Fridays. They talked. They prayed. They read the Bible and good Christian books. And Joy's faith grew like crazy.

"She challenged my thinking and she challenged my heart," Joy says.

When Joy graduated and moved to Nashville to pursue her music career, she couldn't bear the thought of going without a mentor. Hillary stayed back in California, and they kept talking on the phone. But Joy wanted someone up close and personal.

Then she met LeChelle, the pastor's wife at the church Joy now attends. LeChelle picked up where Hillary left off—encouraging, teaching, praying, helping. "She's always there for me," Joy says.

Joy is such a fan of being mentored that she decided to become one. "I think it's just as important to be a mentor as it is to be mentored," says Joy, referring to Titus 2:3-5. "That way, you can continue the cycle of pouring yourself into someone's life the way others have poured into you."

Joy says you don't have to be a spiritual giant to mentor someone. "You just have to be faithful to the Lord. You don't have to be perfect."

The Worst (and Best) Year of My Life

People going through tough times often wonder, Why is God letting me go through this? Is there a point? That was me in seventh grade. At the time, I thought it was the worst year of my life. Anybody who knows me has heard me say that. But now I know better.

Without that year, I would not be who I am today.

I am a missionary kid (or MK). I have lived in the Czech Republic, the second most atheistic nation in the world, since I was 4-years-old. I'm naturally shy so it's tough for me to make friends. But to make matters worse, I was growing up in a foreign country, where I didn't fully know the language and where every kid I met thought Christianity was the dumbest thing on the planet. Let's just say I felt like there was no hope for a close friend.

And then it all got worse. We moved to California for a year before returning to the Czech Republic. I had no idea what living in America was like, and now I had to attend seventh grade there. Sure, I'd been to America once during our missionary service. But it was for four months. Now, I was going to go to school there. I had no idea what Abercrombie was, who Rihanna was, or even how to relate to American kids.

I knew from the very first day at school that things were very different from the Czech schools. People talked differently, dressed differently, acted differently, and even thought differently. I did not fit in, and I didn't know how to fix that. I was doomed to be the class outcast, the weirdo of seventh grade. And I was. The many insults that I received hurt deeply.

I had been taught all my life about God and Christianity. But before my seventh grade year, God was kinda just there—not really doing anything. He was like wallpaper. But now, I was broken. I was spiritually hungry and thirsty. I thought that if God couldn't help me, no one could. One day, I opened my Bible and Psalm 31 stared back at me: "For I hear the slander of many; there is terror on every side; they conspire against me and plot to take my life.

But I trust in you, O Lord. … In the shelter of your presence you hide [those who fear you]; in your dwelling you keep them safe from accusing tongues. … You heard my cry for mercy when I called to you for help" (NIV).

I knew it was no coincidence my Bible fell open to this psalm. I devoured the passage and literally felt a hunger for more. Through his Word, God showed me that I was not alone, and that I just had to trust in him to make the best of it. When I gave him my whole heart, my life opened up. He gave me joy for each new day. He helped me find a few friends around the school and taught me how to let him be my Best Friend.

He gave me many opportunities to live out the instruction to turn the other cheek. Life was still very hard. I still cried myself to sleep a lot. Some of what the kids at school said still wounded me badly. But, still, things were different.

I knew that God had a plan, that he had a reason for all the pain and strife I was going through. I didn't know what he was planning, but who am I to argue with the God of the Universe? I couldn't see it then, but as I look back now, God has revealed how he used me that year.

For instance, there were several students in my class who came from a different country or whom nobody liked. I realize that, with my experience with living in a different culture and being the social outcast, I was the ideal person to reach out and relate to them.

I noticed lessons of that year when we moved back to Czech. I began eighth grade in yet another new school and I had to make new friends all over again. In America, I'd learned how to stand up for myself, how to make a good yet truthful impression, how to laugh at my mistakes, and how to overcome most of my shyness.

Needless to say, I had a very enjoyable eighth grade year. Since then, too, my life has been much more rewarding. With less shyness, I have been able to act in my school's plays and participate in more group activities. God has blessed me with close friends who encourage and strengthen me. He has shown me how to be a better friend.

Most importantly, he used that year to draw me closer to him. I could have never imagined this relationship with him two years ago.

God surely used the bad for good. James says, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance" (James 1:2-3, NIV).

Enjoy the Journey

Although Emma had told her father he could drive her wherever he chose, she seemed to be having a hard time relaxing and letting him do so. Every so often, she had actually grabbed the steering wheel, attempting to turn the car where she thought it should go.

Then she’d remember and let go again, relaxing for a few minutes and letting her father drive. That is, until she forgot again…

“You know,” her father reminded her after she began panicking about the direction they were going. “I’ve got this trip all planned out. I know where I’m going.”

Emma smiled up at her father, a wave of relief splashing over her. Her father knew just where he was taking her, and he knew and loved her perfectly. Why did she keep thinking she knew better?

“Now,” her father continued, “how about relaxing and enjoying the journey? Look out that window—isn’t that a beautiful sight?”

Emma gasped as she looked out the window. The sun was rising, spreading warmth and light in all directions. What a breathtaking scene she’d been missing out on!

“Oh, Father!” she cried. “I don’t want to miss out on one more minute of the journey.”

“Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.” Psalm 46:10 (KJV)

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.” Ephesians 2:10 (KJV)

Stronger Than Fear

All I know about Stephanie, someone I've never met, is what I've heard from some friends at church. Basically, it can be written in a single sentence: Her father died because of AIDS.

I have never known anyone with AIDS. Like most people, I've read a lot about the disease in magazines and seen a lot about it on television. But as I prepare to talk to Stephanie on the phone, I'm aware that reading about AIDS is a lot different than watching AIDS take the life of someone you love.

So I call Stephanie, and we wade through the basic awkward chit-chat of two strangers who are about to discuss something very painful. After a few minutes, I ask Stephanie to tell me about her dad, and she begins her story.

"My parents got a divorce when I was in grade school," she tells me right away, "but their relationship was friendly, so I saw Dad quite a bit. I went to college in Chicago, where my dad lived, and we got really close. He was my only family in a new city.

"My dad and I could talk about a lot of things, but not about God or faith. I'd accepted Christ when I was younger, but in college, I felt somewhat disconnected from the church. I wasn't very involved with other Christians.

Dad had searched for 'religion' in all kinds of places after the divorce, trying out different churches and even different faiths. During my college years, he was a member of a church I didn't agree with, so God wasn't tops on our list of discussion topics."

Stephanie goes on to tell me that during her senior year of college, she began noticing things about her dad that concerned her. "He was experiencing some pretty serious dental problems, which I later found out were a result of AIDS.

But what really caught my attention was how exhausted he was. He helped me move once, and he was tired after going up the stairs only a few times. He was obviously having a hard time carrying things. He had always been a strong, active man, so I knew something was wrong."

At this point, Stephanie stops talking to get a drink of water, and I wonder if our conversation is about to get harder for her. She comes back to the phone and says, "One day my dad called and asked me to stop over on my way to school. I went to his place often, so I didn't have any reason to suspect something was wrong. When I got there, he sat down with me and told me straight out that he had AIDS."

Stephanie is quiet for a moment, then adds, "I don't remember much about that morning—what he said or what I said. But I do remember feeling very anxious to get out of his apartment so I didn't have to hear any more. I just wanted to be alone. I remember telling him I had to leave for class. It was just an excuse to get away."

She never made it to class that day. "I had to walk through Grant Park in downtown Chicago to get to school. I'm sure it was a beautiful spring day, but I didn't even notice. I was in shock, I suppose. And I couldn't stop crying. When I got to school, I just couldn't face the teachers and students. Instead, I called my boyfriend from a pay phone and told him I needed to talk. He came to get me and brought me back to my apartment."


I ask Stephanie if it helped to talk with her boyfriend.

"Not really," she says. "When I told him about my dad having AIDS, he responded to me almost the same way I'd responded to my dad. I could tell he didn't want to hear about it. Like me, I suppose he was in shock. He wanted to get away, probably because he didn't know what to say or how to react."

After knowing about her dad's AIDS for only a few hours, Stephanie had already learned something: AIDS makes people uncomfortable. Even close friends and family members. Sure, it's a disease, just like cancer is a disease, but it's a disease that carries a serious stigma.

As Stephanie tells me about her reaction, about her boyfriend's reaction and about the reactions of so many other people when they find out a person has AIDS, something strikes me. I wonder if a person with AIDS feels something like the leper in the New Testament who had to yell, "Unclean, unclean!" as he walked through the streets so everyone else could scatter and avoid touching or even seeing him. Not much of a life.

But I also think about how Jesus was right there, caring for the leper, touching the leper, ignoring the fear others felt in the face of a horrible disease.

Stephanie knew she had to put her fears aside and, like Jesus, act out of love. "I really loved my dad a lot," she says. "One of the things he taught me as a child was to hug the people you love and tell them that you love them. He taught me how important it is to show love to people. That's probably one of the greatest gifts he gave me, and his illness was a chance for me to give something back to him."

So Stephanie, along with her dad's twin sister, began caring for her dad as much as possible. They took him to doctors' appointments, cleaned his apartment and fixed him meals. Stephanie says, "I could help my dad physically. I could support him emotionally by loving him. But spiritually, there was little I felt I could offer.

I hadn't given up on God, and in fact, I was spending more and more time praying. But for some reason, I wasn't able to share that part of my life with my dad.

"But my aunt is a very strong Christian who feels comfortable talking about her faith and God and salvation. She was able to give my dad what I couldn't—real spiritual support and encouragement."

As people began learning about her dad's AIDS, Stephanie was often asked how he got it. And I have to admit, I've been wondering the same thing. So I ask Stephanie how she handled that question.


"I'll be honest, I hated it when someone asked me that," she says. "I felt they'd already prejudged him. They automatically assumed he did something to get the disease. The truth is, I don't know how he got it. He was in an accident and had some blood transfusions in the '80s, before blood was screened carefully. He also lived a fairly promiscuous life after the divorce.

Did he do drugs? Was he a homosexual? I don't know. But does that really matter? If he got AIDS through a homosexual relationship, should he be thought less of than if he got it from a blood transfusion?"

I listen to Stephanie and hear obvious frustration and hurt in her voice. In my mind, I think back to another picture of Jesus. I can hear him addressing an angry crowd, saying something like, "Any of you who haven't sinned, go ahead, be my guest and throw the first stone at this woman."

The woman in that story had been caught in the act—in the act—of adultery, and still, not a single stone was thrown that day. I'm reminded that judging another person's actions isn't our job as humans.

Stephanie moves ahead a few months in her story to a turning point in her dad's disease. "I had been helping as much as I could, trying my best to be there for my dad. But sometimes I felt angry and frustrated. I was trying to finish college, work and take care of my dad … it was too much. I felt like I couldn't focus on him completely. It was just too hard.

"One morning, Dad called me and asked me to stop by on my way to school. I was frustrated, but I went anyway. When I got there, he was so weak, he couldn't get out of bed. He wanted a drink and told me he'd been thirsty all morning. But he'd waited to call me so he wouldn't wake me."

As Stephanie tells me this, I think, What an act of kindness her dad showed by thinking of her, even when he was thirsty. And what an act of kindness Stephanie showed by giving him a glass of water even when she was busy.

That morning, Stephanie's dad was admitted to the hospital for what would be the final three weeks of his life.

"What can I say about those final weeks?" Stephanie says. "They were awful. He had a tube in his throat, so it was difficult for him to talk. He would cry with frustration, and all I could do was wipe his tears. This once-strong man was helpless—and dying. He didn't even look like my dad any more.

"The day he died was the hardest day of all. I didn't have the courage to stay in the room while they pulled out all his tubes and wires, so I waited in the hallway. My aunt, though, was right beside his bed, reading Scripture to him and praying."

I ask Stephanie if it bothered her that she wasn't with her dad in his last moments.

She answers quickly, "Not at all. I knew my aunt was giving him what he really needed, so I was grateful. Besides, it was too hard for me to watch. I went into the room briefly after everything was over, and when I saw my dad lying there dead, I couldn't handle it. I just couldn't believe there was no more hope, nothing more I could do."

But in the time since her father's death, Stephanie has found that there is hope and there are things she can do.

"For my senior project in college, I made a block for the AIDS quilt, which is a project dedicated to remembering people who have died from AIDS. I scanned my dad's picture on my block and put a lot of bright, colorful images on it. Designing it and working on it helped me say goodbye."

Stephanie also started spending time with kids affected by AIDS.

"The kids I help each have a parent with AIDS. When a parent dies, I share my experience with the child involved. I think it helps them to know that someone else has experienced that same hurt and despair."

But the thing that brought Stephanie the greatest healing was reading her dad's journals. "While he was sick, he wrote a lot. His journals are full of Scripture that was comforting to him. He writes about his thoughts on the journey he was on. He was rediscovering who he was and who God was."

Though they never talked about his faith, Stephanie is confident she'll see her dad again in heaven. "In his journals, he wrote about turning back to God and renewing a relationship with him. No matter how many good or bad things he did in his life, his genuine faith at the end of his life gives me hope that he's now with God."

Stephanie and I say goodbye, and I'm left with hope, too. Hope because God is continuing to heal Stephanie's pain. Hope because God uses even the most painful circumstances to bring us closer to him. And hope because God offers his unconditional love to everyone—the leper, the adulteress, the man dying of AIDS.

To me.

To you.

And that's the greatest news of all.

The Gossip Problem

I remember it like it was yesterday. The queasy stomach, the tears I fought to hold back, the incredible hurt I felt in my heart.

"You know, Autumn," my friend Nick* said, "Lisa and Andrea were just talking about you." I immediately got tense.

"They said you're a kiss-up, that the only reason you start on the basketball team is because the coach likes you. It's not because you're good."

I thought I might be sick.

"They said they're tired of you always getting what you want. You don't deserve it."

It was all I could do to hold back the tears as I sank to my knees on the cold, concrete floor. As Nick continued to tell me everything my supposed best friends said about me, I was crushed. My mind raced. I knew I didn't deserve this. But that didn't make it any easier.

Lisa and Andrea came in from lunch break acting like nothing had happened. Lisa was still my locker mate, Andrea my partner on a history project. I was amazed at their ability to pretend we had the perfect friendship. Especially since they'd said such hurtful things.

I was a freshman in high school—and I felt like I didn't have a friend in the world.

All because of gossip.

The Bible tells us the tongue is our worst enemy. "The tongue is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person," James 3:6 says.

In the book of Romans, Paul includes gossip among the sins of murder, envy, greed, deceit and malice. He said "those who do such things deserve death."

So why does God despise gossip?

Proverbs offers several verses on the subject. A gossip "betrays a confidence" (11:13) and "separates close friends" (16:28). Proverbs 18:8 says, "The words of a gossip are like choice morsels; they go down to a man's inmost parts."

When we say mean things about others, we're inflicting emotional pain on them. Instead of punching them in the nose, we're shooting daggers into their heart.

As Christians, we're supposed to honor God in all areas of our lives. Talking negatively about friends or strangers does not show Christ's unconditional love.

So, what should we do when we encounter gossip? I think there are three possible responses.

1. Speak out. Kindly but firmly tell your friends gossip is hurtful and that no one benefits from it.

2. Be positive. Turn the conversation around by saying something nice about the person being talked about.

3. Walk away. Don't be part of the problem by sticking around to listen.

You've probably heard gossip everywhere—at school, in the mall, on the Net. But what about on Sunday mornings? You'd think stuff like this wouldn't happen in church sanctuaries or youth group meetings, right?

Wrong, unfortunately. And the scary thing is we may not even realize it. Gossip may not be as blatant at church as it is at school, but it can still show its ugly face. We're just better at "disguising" it at church.

For example, one of your friends tells you her parents are getting divorced, and she asks for prayer. Do you find yourself wanting to notify the church prayer chain, all your relatives and any other Christians you can think of—all with the seemingly good intention of wanting prayer for your friend?

If so, stop, drop and …

1. Resist the urge. She confided in you, not the entire church congregation. Don't break her trust, even if it's for something as apparently good as a prayer request.

2. Pray. Get on your knees and do as your friend asked—talk to God.

3. Talk to your friend. Ask your friend if she'd like you to share her prayer concern with anyone else, and if so, who? Talk to her before you disclose any personal information.

Unfortunately, we've all been guilty of gossip at one time or another—intentional or not. And we've all been the victim of it too. But how should we react when we discover a trusted friend has been saying mean things about us? Yes, it hurts, but have hope. You can do several things.

1. Go to God. Talk, cry, scream—whatever it takes to resolve your hurt. Just hand it over to him.

2. Forgive. You can only do this by the grace of God. And you need to—no matter how difficult it is. (Check out Matthew 6:14-15 for some help.) Forgive your friend first in your heart. Ask God for guidance and healing.

3. Confront. When your emotions are under control, tell the person or people who hurt you how their words made you feel. (If necessary, "rehearse" what you'd like to say beforehand. If you think you might lose your cool, express your feelings in a note or e-mail.) Then tell them you forgive them. Hopefully, this will help you move on with your friendship.

So what happened with Lisa and Andrea?

When they pretended our friendship hadn't changed, I was tempted to lash out. But I took a step back. I talked to God. And through my tears I found a true friend in Jesus—one who would never betray me.

He gave me the strength to tell my friends they had hurt me. Lisa started crying; Andrea didn't know what to say. I knew they were both sorry for what they had said. They apologized, and through the grace of God I was able to forgive them. Sure, things were a little tense at first, but after awhile everything was back to the way it was before.

I still deal with gossip, whether it be as a recipient or a participant. But the more I learn about God's love, the more I realize the importance of encouraging others—and that never includes gossip.

The Effects of Sex

You want to know what it's like to have sex before you're married? It's like building a big wall between you and God, a wall you wonder if you'll ever break through. I know because I had sex with my boyfriend.

Derrick and I met our freshman year of high school. It didn't take me long to develop a big crush on him. By the time we were seniors, we were very close friends. But that seemed to be all we were, at least to him.

One day, when we were taking a walk, he reached for my hand. I was so surprised, you could have knocked me over. A few days later, he kissed me for the first time. And after a few months, we were fooling around, doing more than we should, on a pretty regular basis.

To me, the idea that someone as cute as Derrick found me attractive was incredible. And for the first time in my life, I actually felt beautiful, even sexy. I suppose that's why I forced my conscience to shut up when it told me we were going too far physically.

I hadn't dated much, and I had never done anything except kiss a guy before. So being with Derrick—and knowing he wanted to be with me—was too strong a temptation.

Near the end of our senior year, we had sex for the first time. By that time, I wanted it as much as Derrick did. He never pressured me, and he never made me do anything I didn't want to do. When I think back now, I almost wish he had pressured me a little. At least then I could blame him. But I can only blame myself.

Television and movies make it seem like sex is just this fun, romantic thing that doesn't really matter. But sex affected me more than I ever dreamed it could. It changed every relationship I had. Sex became the focus of my relationship with Derrick. It also affected my relationship with my parents.

I couldn't look them in the eye, especially when Derrick was around. I thought my parents would be able to tell just by looking at us, and I didn't ever want them to know.

And it definitely changed my relationship with God. I felt too ashamed to even talk to God, much less ask him for help and forgiveness. That's when I felt that wall start to go up—the wall I thought would hide me from God.

I had been a Christian my whole life, and I'd never gotten into any trouble before. But the guilt I felt after having sex was overwhelming. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to keep me from doing it again. Instead, I tried to justify what Derrick and I were doing. I told myself it wasn't a big deal, that it was just a physical act. I tried not to let it bother me.

But it did bother me—a lot.

By the time Derrick and I broke up a few months later, I could hardly look at myself in the mirror. When I did, I saw someone dirty, someone who couldn't control herself, someone who was slapping God in the face on a regular basis.

After the breakup, I felt like my only hope was to turn back to God and repent for what I'd done. I tried to do my regular devotions, but I couldn't. Every time I read the Bible, it seemed like I found a verse about sexual immorality that just made me realize how much I'd disappointed God. I couldn't even pray.

I had always known God forgives sins. I had even told other friends that God would forgive them for the sexual things they'd done. But now that it was my turn, I just couldn't believe that God could wash all that sin away. It seemed like too big a job, even for God.

It took me months of struggle to finally ask for forgiveness. The wall I'd put up between me and God finally came down, but I still had to live with the "bricks"—my feelings of guilt—that were piled around me. I knew God had forgotten my sin. The trouble was, I couldn't.

It's been a few years since Derrick and I broke up. And every single day, I struggle to trust in God's forgiveness. Every day, I have to fight off my fears that God will punish me someday. My biggest fear is that I will never find a Christian man who'll be able to live with the truth about me.

And even if he can, I'll have to live with the knowledge that I stole something from him. I've made it impossible for him to enjoy God's gift of sex with someone who saved herself for him.

Back when I started having sex, I was focused on the pleasure I wanted right then. If I'd only known how much pain it would cause, believe me, I never would have given in.

I'm a Christian Addicted to Porn

The remains of the campfire were cold. And the labels on the bottles of Bud were bleached white by days in the sun. Whoever had camped out in the woods near my house was long gone. My friend and I picked through the debris they'd left behind. An abandoned hip-hop CD. A few empty baggies and bottles. And a magazine.

The cover was weathered and unrecognizable. I poked it open with a stick, scared of what critters might be calling it home now. Its dewy, wet pages flopped open. I saw a woman. And I saw her naked breasts.

Since I was only 7, I ran. I mean, girls had cooties. They were gross. They were things we chased at recess, but didn't know what to do if we ever caught one. But I still remember that image. I was excited by it, but scared of it at the same time. I didn't understand it and I knew I shouldn't be seeing it.

And I knew I wanted more.

A few years later I got my chance. This time I didn't run away. I was 13. I was at my friend Tyler's* house. Tyler was my only friend with internet access. Almost every day, we played computer games for hours.

But one day we clicked on what we thought was a game to download, and our lives changed. It wasn't a game, but a video. At first, we laughed as we saw the blurry, slow-moving image of a woman. We laughed nervously as if to say, "That's so stupid. Turn it off." But we didn't turn it off. We watched it. Then I went home.

But Tyler went looking for more and showed me what he found. I didn't run away this time. I didn't want to keep looking. But I did. I was caught.

Eventually, looking at nudity online together grew uncomfortable and boring. So Tyler and I took our passion for porn solo. Tyler kept downloading anything he could find, progressing from topless women to sex photos to hardcore videos. Meanwhile, I bounced between feeling guilty and wanting to see more. Some days I was strong. Other days, I was like a lustful porn addict looking for a fix. I never purchased or downloaded porn, though. I was a church kid in a small town who could be recognized and ratted on. And I had no computer at home. Instead, I stole porn.

I searched my friends' houses in hopes their dad had a hidden stash of Playboys somewhere. When that didn't work, I stole porn magazines from convenience store shelves. Not many. Just three or four over a couple of years. But I savored them.

I imagined one page at a time coming to life. It's embarrassing to say, but these women made me feel loved. My eyes would feast on their skin and it made me feel like a man. For just one moment, I felt wanted. I felt pleasure.

I felt close to someone, and it never bothered me that she wasn't real. She was to me.

But those moments of fulfillment did pass. Always. The pleasure faded. And in its wake I fought pounding waves of regret and guilt. I felt a million miles from good, a billion light years from God. I'd often think back to how I saw that first picture of a naked woman. I had used a stick to keep it away from me. I felt like God had the stick in his hand now, poking at me from a distance, trying not to get any of me on him.

I knew this wasn't true. I knew I was a Christian. And I knew God saw me as perfect and loveable as he saw his very own Son. I knew all this. Grace. Love. Forgiveness.

But I didn't feel it. And I grew more and more depressed and frustrated with myself. I'd promise myself over and over that I wouldn't mess up again, only to repeat my mistakes.

Tyler wasn't any better. He eventually found it impossible to believe in a God who'd keep him from looking at porn. With God out of the picture, Tyler convinced himself porn was just about pleasure. And how could pleasure hurt anyone? Once he decided pornography wasn't evil, he embraced it. He subscribed to Playboy and bought their videos.

Seeing what happened to Tyler was a wake-up call. I knew I was headed down the same path. So I got help. One day, I was hanging out with a close friend who was a strong believer. Out of nowhere, I told him everything. My voice shaking, I confessed that if I could look at pornography for free, knowing I wouldn't be found out or feel guilty, I would. I asked him for help. We prayed together.

And then—to my surprise—my friend told me he had the same problem. Turns out most of my friends did. We went to an older Christian in our church and asked him to meet with us every week and help us. This man had no great wisdom we lacked, no secret to fighting the drawing power of naked women. But what he did was listen, give us wise advice and pray. He became a caring mentor to all of us. The first thing he showed us was that we weren't the only ones with these problems. We weren't freaks. We weren't alone anymore.

As I met with my new accountability group, I saw my life had to change. And a lot of those changes and lessons still apply to my life today. Lesson one: run away. "Flee!" our mentor often said. "Alcoholics shouldn't live across the street from a liquor store." To me, that means I can't walk alone into the magazine section of a store. Or use a computer alone without internet filters.

I have to limit the opportunities for temptation. I have to put space between me and porn. I can't have some catalogs in my house. I don't let myself watch TV alone. Even with filters on my internet service, I don't go online if no one else is home. These restrictions annoy me sometimes. But they help me flee.

The second thing I learned was to ask myself the question: How can I increase my desire for God and smother my desire to lust? Someone once told me that there are two dogs in my heart's backyard. One dog always craves pleasure, sin and selfishness. The other dog craves justice, mercy, peace and obedience to God. When I wake up every day, I choose which dog gets fed. The one I feed grows until the other dog can't even be seen.


I need to feed the right dog. I do that by having honest relationships with Christian guys. I have one friend in particular I check in with daily. We talk honestly about sex and sin and the junk that tempts us. Together we figure out how to be better men. We gripe. We pray. We confess. We teach.

I also feed the right dog by reading the Bible and studying it with other people. And I don't just read it, but I write down what I've learned and what I'll do or think differently because of it. I spend time in silence asking God to speak to me. I pray, worship, serve other people.

On most days, the good dog outweighs the bad one. That mongrel is so scrawny now that I hardly notice him. But he surprises me every once in a while. Out of nowhere he'll bark at me, and I'll find myself pulled in the wrong direction. He's the loudest when I'm not careful about avoiding temptation. So I flee. I get up and leave.

And I pray: "God, help me do what's right today. And help Tyler, too. Save us both from pornography and make us closer to perfect. Make us love you more than ourselves and surround us with people who remind us that you love us even when we mess up. Surround us with friends and a church that feed the holy side of us and teach us how to starve the addicted side of us. Kill the bad dog. Feed the good one. Amen."

I Wish I Had Waited

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I couldn't look her in the eye. "Yes, of course his mom will be there," I said sarcastically. My mom questioned me like this all the time, and I deserved it. But I couldn't let her know that. I was going to my boyfriend Kevin's for dinner and a movie.

My Kevin. He played guitar in a band, he wrote poetry and he was incredibly sweet. He said he loved me, so I said I loved him too.

Mom drove me over to Kevin's, just to make sure his mom was there. She was. But that didn't really matter. I could make my own decisions. And I did …

What If?

Kevin drove me home that night. After he kissed me goodbye, I stepped inside and went upstairs. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I didn't like to look into my own eyes. I went into my room, trying not to look at my bookshelf where the words "Teen Study Bible" glared back at me accusingly. I lay in bed for hours, and I couldn't sleep.

All I could think was, What if? What if I get pregnant?

I cried as I wrote in my journal, mapping out a plan in case I did get pregnant. Who would I tell first? Would I try to have an abortion? Would I stay in school? How would I ever be able to face my parents and brother?

"Oh please, God," I prayed, "just let me not be pregnant. I'll stop doing this."

I didn't get pregnant. But I didn't stop, either.

Feeling Betrayed

Time passed, and little by little I became aggravated with Kevin. His friends kidded me about the physical side of our relationship; so much for his promised discretion.

He didn't show at a dance recital that meant a lot to me. I started feeling betrayed. I'd shared my body with him, my soul, and he didn't really care. It hurt a lot. I broke up with him after a six-month relationship.

A wall had been built, though, and it remained—between me and my parents, and, most importantly, between me and God. I went into another relationship, and again I went too far physically. I was addicted. It seemed like I was in an endless cycle, even after I broke up with my second boyfriend. Change seemed impossible.

A year later, I sat in church one Sunday, listening to something about a parable of wheat and tares (Matthew 13:24-30). Tares are weeds that grow in fields. Tares look like wheat, but are not. That hit me. Even though I'd been in church my whole life and came from a Christian family, I realized I had no true faith.

And faith was what it was all about. Faith that Christ had died on the cross so I could be with him—so my sins, all of them, could be washed away. Faith was the answer.

So I prayed. I told God I knew I was a sinner, that the things I'd done were wrong. I asked him to forgive me and be the Lord of my life. At 17 years old, I got saved.

As I began studying the Bible, I found more and more instances where God's rules, and my parents' rules, weren't just stupid things that made no sense. They made perfect sense; they were there for a reason, to guide me on how to really be happy.

The Gift of Mercy

I talked to my parents one night and told them the truth about the things I'd done. I cried. I asked their forgiveness.

My mom said she had known all along; she gave me a hug, and she cried as well. And I'll never forget my dad's face—so twisted full of pain. But as time's gone on, that face has softened; my dad loves me, and he has forgiven me too.

Mercy is an incredible gift.

I struggle daily with guilt, and with feelings I wish I didn't have. I wonder if there's going to be a Christian man who will love me and marry me one day, even with the mistakes I've made. That's the worst fear of all.

And even though I know God has forgiven me, I struggle to forgive myself. Thoughts like that hurt. But I believe God has a plan for me. He will protect me and give me the strength I need to live for him and to wait for marriage. I pray for it every day, and, day by day, his grace comes to help.

I'm waiting for marriage because I've known the pain that comes from disobedience to God. Sex outside of marriage isn't what he intended, and it causes feelings that cut deeply, to the very soul of a person.

I'm waiting because I know God has someone in mind for me as a partner one day, if it's his will that I should marry. I'm waiting because I want what I will share with that person to be special. And I'm waiting because I know that through God's strength, I can.

Wicked Words


My stomach dropped when I saw Phil* walking toward me in the cafeteria.

"Please tell me he's not coming to talk to me," I whispered to my friends Lena and Alyssa.

"No such luck," Lena replied. "In fact, he looks like he's on a mission."

That's what worried me. The winter formal was three weeks away and rumor had it that Phil wanted to ask me out. With thick black glasses, hyperactive sweat glands, a bad case of chin acne, and the tendency to use the word "cool" a few hundred times a day, Phil wasn't exactly the man of my dreams.

"Hi, Christy," he said, his voice cracking as he uttered the first syllable of my name.

"Hey," I mumbled.

"Uhhh, I was just wondering if you'd like to go to the winter dance with me. I think it would be cool," Phil said as beads of sweat formed at his temples.

My friends couldn't stop giggling.

"So, what do you say, Christy?" Alyssa said with a smirk. "Does Philly here need to go buy you a cool corsage?"

It's true that I didn't have a date yet, and I did want to attend the dance, but if I went with Phil my friends would tease me to no end.

"Not interested," I said flatly as I looked at Phil's glistening forehead and dotted, bumpy red chin. "I'd rather go alone than be seen with you."

The moment the words fell from my lips, I could feel how harsh they were. "Oh-oh-OK. Cool," Phil said softly. "Well, I guess I'll see ya around."

With his head down and shoulders slumped, Phil slouched away to a table on the opposite end of the cafeteria.

I watched him sitting alone, staring out into space. Here was a guy who had probably spent the morning working up the nerve to ask me out, and with just a few words, I'd crushed his spirit.

I knew God wanted me to treat others with compassion and kindness. But instead, what had I done? I'd blurted out something hurtful.

I looked across the cafeteria. Even from a distance, I could see a sadness in Phil's eyes.

I felt absolutely horrible, knowing that I was the cause of that sadness.

I knew exactly what I had to do, so I took a deep breath and asked God for the courage to go up to Phil and apologize. As I approached Phil's table, my stomach knotted up.

What if I say something stupid and make a fool out of myself? I worried. Or what if the words come out wrong and I end up making things worse?

When I reached Phil's table, all I could utter was a soft, "Hey."

"Hey," he echoed just as quietly.

I fidgeted with the shiny zipper hanging from my backpack as I tried to find the right words—any words. My mouth was dry and my palms were sweaty. I couldn't help thinking that this was probably how Phil felt when he approached me.

The awkward silence was excruciating. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer.

"I was rude to you," I blurted out. "So rude. And for no good reason. I'm sorry."

I glanced up at Phil, but he was quiet. Clearly, he wasn't in much of a talking mood. He kind of nodded, and I grabbed my backpack and went back to my friends.

My actions that day reminded me just how powerful my words are. They can either build people up or tear them down. As Proverbs 18:21 says, they can bring life or death—and the choice is mine. I made the wrong choice that day.

I let my friends influence me way too much. I was afraid of being teased, so I lashed out at Phil. But there's really no excuse for the way I acted. That afternoon, I promised myself and God that I'd always do my best to use my words in a positive way.

As for Phil, it's funny the way life works out sometimes. A few months after I'd said those mean things, Phil became my lab partner in science class. To my surprise, it was an awesome partnership. Luckily, he wasn't the kind of guy to hold a grudge. He treated me with a great deal of respect—just as I should have given him right from the start. In the end, our friendship turned out to be pretty … cool.

Now What?
What part did Christy's friends play in her response to Phil? How do your own friends influence the way you treat others?

Think about a time when someone said something hurtful to you. How did their words affect your mood and your self-esteem? Did the experience help you see why God wants us to use our words to encourage rather than discourage others? See Colossians 4:6.

Think about someone in your school who often gets picked on. What could you do to lift this person's spirit?

Read James 3:3-12. What does this passage tell us about our tongues? How do we keep our tongues from causing pain and destruction?

Over the next few days, make a conscious effort to compliment rather than criticize.

Going To Youth Group for All the Wrong Reasons


"WOW." I said aloud the word my friend Jaimee* was "signing"—with three raised fingers in a "W" shape on either side of her "O"-shaped mouth. I echoed her gesture.

"Wow!" mouthed Jaimee.

"Wow … Wow … Wow," I repeated quietly.

Jaimee and I erupted into giggles, but quickly stifled them. We sat in the back row of youth group, as far away from any youth leaders as possible. We knew we should have been paying attention to Giles's sermon, but we had no desire to listen to our youth pastor. There were movies and song lyrics to quote, boys to discuss, and inside jokes to crack.

Jaimee was my closest friend, but since neither of us could drive yet, we could only see each other at youth group. And her friendship was what mattered most to me.

I'd met Jaimee my freshman year. My family had just gotten settled into a new church and I met her at youth group. Before long we were the best of friends—completely inseparable when we were at youth group events.

Jaimee was the only person I trusted. We confided in each other about absolutely everything, including the guys we were interested in. So, the day a classmate told me that Jaimee was pursuing the guy I liked, I was stunned. I tried calling her so she could explain, but she wouldn't return my calls. My shock and confusion became outright anger that I could hardly hold in.

The next Sunday, I waited outside of youth group to confront her. As Jaimee's mom's car pulled up, I sprung up from the bench I was sitting on, ready to explode. I managed a polite "hello" to Jaimee's mom, but once she drove away, I started in.

"Why? Why would you do that?" I spat out. "You knew I liked him. Of all the guys in the world, why did you go for him?"

"I don't remember you ever saying you liked him," Jaimee innocently replied.

"Are you kidding? That's all you and I talked about for weeks. And you didn't even know him until I introduced you."

"I guess I didn't think you liked him that much. And I can't help it if someone you like happened to like me instead." She shrugged, quickly turned away from me, and walked into the building.

I stood there fuming. All I could think was, This is supposed to be my closest friend. And she's a total liar.

Over the next few months, I tried to reconcile with her. Even though she never admitted to betraying me, we made up a few times—but then she'd backstab me in a different way soon after. Our giggles and jokes turned into icy glares and the silent treatment.

It wasn't long before Jaimee stopped going to youth group. Even though she was my main reason for going to youth group, I decided to keep going. I ended up making some other friends, but I noticed they were different.

They were focused on worship, attentive during messages, and really open during small group. I admired them for what seemed like a genuine faith, but I still wasn't sure I wanted to be like them.

The next summer, I decided to go on the youth group's annual summer camping trip. On a placid lake in northern Minnesota, miles from civilization, and without distracting friends, I actually listened to what Giles was saying.

Throughout the week, he taught on Colossians 3:1-3: "Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God" (NIV). During an evening message, he said, "Setting your mind on things above means doing everything because of Jesus."

He continued, "The passage says you died and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. Is that you? Have you died to yourself? You'll know by how much you hunger for God."

I felt totally convicted. I didn't have a hunger for God. I was totally focused on earthly things. Thinking back to my relationship with Jaimee, I realized I had a tendency to make my friends into idols. I had often let them take the place of God in my life. During a morning devotional time, I stepped into a canoe with only my Bible, a journal, and a pen. I paddled a good distance away from shore and soaked in the stillness.

The lake was calm and the morning breeze cool as I started thinking and praying. I opened my journal and wrote a prayer: Lord, I've learned I can't depend on people. I can only depend on you. I confess that I've idolized friendships and I want to change. Forgive me for my sins, and help me to walk with you and put you first.

I left that week with a real hunger to understand this God I had just been pretending to know. I still struggled with placing my friends above God. But I realized that if I seek God first, I would start hearing and seeing God through my friends—in their words of encouragement, hugs, and examples.

My friends became more than just people to talk to and joke with; they became my brothers and sisters in Christ, who walked alongside me and continually pointed me to God.

Rebelutionaries


The Launching Pad: In 2005, twin brothers Alex and Brett Harris, 19, started a blog. They called it The Rebelution because they wanted to ignite a teenage rebellion against low expectations. They wanted to encourage their Christian peers to think hard and not waste their gifts. "Our culture wants us to view the teen years as a vacation from responsibility." Alex says. "But we think they are supposed to be the launching pad of life. Teens today are capable of so much more than they think they are."

Feelings into Words: The call was quickly heard. With hard-hitting articles on topics like abortion, modesty and achieving big things right now, the web traffic exploded. The response surprised Brett and Alex. "Even by the end of the first week, we had fellow teens leaving comments saying that we were putting what they were feeling into words," Brett says. "They were wanting more, and they were asking us a ton of questions."

The brothers kept writing, sometimes posting two or three times a day. They wrote a series of entries on the three pillars of their Rebelution: character, competence and collaboration. They established a battle cry for their growing movement: "Do Hard Things."

The Growing Rebelution: When their blog began to get hundreds of hits daily, they decided to launch their own site (therebelution.com). Three weeks before the new site's launch, they were featured in the New York Daily News. "We were blown away," says Alex. "We realized we'd touched a nerve. It wasn't something we planned. We're just honored to be part of what God was doing in the hearts of our generation."

And then God opened a whole new door: Rebelution conferences—events focused on worshiping God and showing that God can do anything if believers are willing to step outside their comfort zones and "do hard things" for him. The first conference was held in Sacramento just six months after the new site launch. "It was really a God thing," Brett explains.

"After just three weeks of word-of-mouth publicity, we were sold out." The building seated 450, but they packed in 500. Last fall, they held a conference in Indianapolis with over 2,000 attendees from 20 states. Some groups drove as far as 16 hours.

More conferences are coming this summer. In addition, in April the twins will release their first book, Do Hard Things: A Teenage Rebellion Against Low Expectations (Multnomah). "Another God thing," Brett says. "We're really excited about it."

Alex and Brett don't know exactly what their future holds. But they do know that they'll continue doing hard things—and leading their generation to do the same.

Why Didn't He Hate Me?

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My junior year of high school was off to a great start. By the third day, I'd finally memorized my class schedule, my locker combination and most of my pep-squad routines. That morning I slipped on my new jeans and sandals, grabbed my books and pompoms, and kissed my mom goodbye.

It was a 10-mile drive to school from our house in the country. As I got into my little brown car, I grabbed my seat belt, thinking, I never remember to wear this thing, but I may as well put it on now that I'm thinking about it.

As I came over a hill, I remembered I still needed to put lipstick on. I adjusted my rearview mirror for a quick application. As my eyes returned to the road, I caught a glimpse of something moving, then felt my car suddenly jolt. I had hit something. My initial thought was perhaps it was a farm animal. But I had a sinking feeling it was something much worse.

As I stopped the car and ran back to see what I had hit, my sinking feeling was confirmed. I stood trembling over the body of a curly-headed woman lying face down in the grass next to a mangled bicycle.

Without a cell phone, I looked down the road for someplace to call for an ambulance. I noticed only two houses in sight. I ran to the closest one and pounded on the door. When there was no response, I ran to my car and drove to the other house.

I was relieved when an elderly man opened the door and quickly pointed me toward his phone. I called 911. Then, I called home and asked my mom to drive down the road until she saw me. I couldn't bring myself to tell her anything else.

By the time I got back to the scene, another car had stopped, and a man was standing on the side of the road near the woman. He looked at my car and asked, "Did you hit her?" I responded through my tears of panic, "Yes sir, but it wasn't a hit-and-run, I only left to go call an ambulance."

My mother arrived within a couple of minutes, and I tried to pull myself together as she ran toward me with her own tears of panic. As we waited for help, all I could think about was that the woman I had just hit was probably someone's mother … someone's daughter … someone's wife.

When a paramedic finally arrived and examined the woman, he coldly explained we would have to call a funeral home because there was nothing he could do. I left the scene not even knowing who she was.

The next two hours were a blur. I remember collapsing on the living-room sofa, sobbing, then waking up later when a policeman knocked on the door, asking to question me. I kept thinking, This wreck was all my fault. I should have been the one killed, not her. Terrified of facing the woman's family, I considered suicide more than once that afternoon.

Later that day, I received a phone call from a man who said he was a neighbor to Marjorie Jarstfer—the woman I had hit. The caller told me that Mrs. Jarstfer's husband, Gary, was out of town. He said he and his pastor had driven to see Mr. Jarstfer, to tell him his wife had been killed in a car accident. My heart sank. The family now knew. I was sure they probably wanted me dead too.

The caller continued, "Shannon, I want you to know that Gary's immediate response was, 'How is the girl? Was she hurt?'" I couldn't believe this man's first response to such devastating news was concern for me. How could he even think of me, when I had just taken his wife from him?

I was even more stunned when the caller said Gary wanted me to come to his home the night before the funeral. I wanted to decline, but knew I couldn't. I needed to meet him. But I was scared to death. When I went to see him, I got out of the car with my heart racing and more lumps in my throat than I could count.

As I entered the house, I looked down the entry corridor to see a big, burly middle-aged man coming toward me, not with animosity in his eyes, but with his arms opened wide. Gary Jarstfer scooped me up in the warmest embrace, and the tears that I had been fighting back began to flow freely onto his flannel shirt as his own tears flowed onto the top of my head.

I couldn't stop repeating, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Once we regained our composure, Gary introduced me to his pastor and two of his adult children. Then he took me by the hand over to a window seat and began to tell me things he wanted me to know about Marjorie's life.

"My wife was such a godly woman, and we've served many years with Wycliffe Bible Translators. There was no limit to how much Marjorie loved the Lord," Gary explained. "She had a very close, intimate walk with God, so much so that she's actually been telling me for a while that she sensed the Lord would be calling her home soon. She lived every day as if it would be her last on Earth, and she never left this house on her morning ride without hugging and kissing me as if she might be saying goodbye for the last time. … "

I tried to wrap my brain around the idea that someone could be so close to God that she would know when her time on Earth was about to be up. Gary had my full attention as he continued, "Shannon, God was ready to take Marjorie home.

Even though this has caught us all by surprise, it comes as no surprise to him. You may be wondering why God allowed this to happen to you, but I want you to look at it this way.

He knew you would be strong enough to handle this, and that's what I want you to do. You can't let this ruin your life, Shannon. God wants to strengthen you through this. He wants to use you.

As a matter of fact, I am passing Marjorie's legacy of being a godly woman on to you. I want you to love Jesus without limits, just like Marjorie did. I want you to let him use you for his glory, Shannon."

A few weeks later, Gary was told that he could likely sue my parents for more money than our insurance policy would cover, and yet he refused, saying, "What would be the purpose of adding to that family's grief by making their lives more miserable?"

The district attorney wanted to try me for involuntary manslaughter, but Gary insisted all charges be dismissed without a trial. He had a perfect opportunity to make me pay for what I'd done, yet he chose mercy.


I kept waiting for Gary to come to his senses and dish out the punishment I deserved. However, time proved me wrong. For weeks after the wreck, Gary called or dropped by where I worked just to see how I was doing.

Gary's merciful actions—along with his challenging words to me that night before Marjorie's funeral—would be my source of strength and comfort for years to come. God took this horrific event and turned it into something beautiful. As a result, I can say along with the apostle Paul, "We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character, and character, hope" (Romans 5:3-4, NIV).

I gradually went from feeling "to blame" to feeling "chosen": chosen to carry Marjorie's legacy of being a godly woman who loves Jesus beyond measure. I wanted to be completely his, not just with my lips, but with my life.

NOW WHAT?
Read Romans 5:8, Colossians 2:13 and Ephesians 2:4-7. What do these verses tell us about God's love, mercy and grace? How did Gary demonstrate God's love, mercy and grace to Shannon?

How was Shannon changed by Gary's willingness to forgive her? Think of a time you received forgiveness when you should have been punished. How did it make you feel? How did it change or affect you?

Read Luke 6:27-36 in The Message Bible. What does this passage teach us about loving those who don't deserve to be loved? Why should we be willing to love and forgive those who don't deserve love and forgiveness?
To remind you of God's love and forgiveness, memorize Romans 8:38-39: "I am absolutely sure that not even death or life can separate us from God's love. Not even angels or demons, the present or the future, or any powers can do that. Not even the highest places or the lowest, or anything else in all creation can do that. Nothing at all can ever separate us from God's love because of what Christ Jesus our Lord has done" (NIRV).

If Anybody Knew the Real Me

How could God love a messed-up guy like me?


Feeling groggy from a late night date, I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and then glanced over at the girl next to me. She was the reason I was here in a church service; she and a couple of other girls had invited me. I said yes—even though I knew I'd be out all night with another girl—because I figured I'd eventually end up making out with at least one of the three.

After all, that was one of my three main life priorities: 1) talking girls into bed, 2) working out until my muscles ripped; 3) winning State in wrestling during my senior year.

Although I had no interest in God, sitting through the service would be worth it if it meant picking up a girl or two. But I quickly realized these girls weren't interested in going out with me. Still, something about church kept bringing me back. It wasn't the stiff chairs or the sermons—what the pastor said didn't make much sense.

But everybody was friendly and different from my other friends. As much as I enjoyed being a cool and popular jock, it felt good to get away from that on Sunday mornings. I just didn't feel like I had to put on a show around Christians.

Then there was Ann. She was in one of my classes at school, but I hardly knew her. One Sunday morning she came up and said hi. The more we talked over the following weeks, the more she impressed me. She didn't treat me like I was some dumb jock, but always seemed interested in my opinions about God and religion. I came to respect Ann, and I never thought about hitting on her.

One day between classes, Ann handed me a Bible and said: "This is my favorite book, Josh. I think you'll like it, too."

As I fumbled self-consciously with the big book, she invited me to a Wednesday night Bible study with some of her friends.

Something inside told me to say, "No way." Something else told me to give it a try. Instead, I mumbled, "What do you guys do there?"

"We eat dinner and read the Bible. It's pretty laid back, but we talk about God a lot."

"I'm not into the whole 'God thing,'" I said indifferently. "But is dinner free?" I figured I wouldn't go if it cost me.

"Yes, it's free," Ann said with a laugh. "So is the fun."

She was right. The food was free and good, and the study turned out to be fun. I couldn't figure out how people could laugh so much while reading the Bible. But they did. So, along with going to church, I also attended the Bible study for the rest of my junior year. Hanging out with Ann and her friends was better than trying to constantly pick up girls. It felt like I had a group of good, genuine friends for the first time ever.

But I had a problem I was afraid to discuss. The more I studied the Bible with my church friends, the more I realized how bad I was. I'd discovered God didn't want people to have pre-marital sex, and I'd sure broken that rule.

And I knew God didn't want people to be full of themselves. Guilty again, especially when it came to wrestling. While I was trying to be a better person, my life was still one big mess. If anybody knew the real me, I thought, they wouldn't want me around.

"Ann, you're perfect and so is everyone else at church," I said as I stared downward. "I'm so bad."

I was sitting next to Ann during the noon meal at a Christian camp. A couple of months before summer break, she'd encouraged me to sign up for the weeklong retreat. And I'd been having a great time, but around midweek I couldn't stand it any longer. So I spilled my guts. I figured Ann was about to tell me I didn't have a chance with God.

"Josh, you are guilty of sin," she said softly.

I knew it. I'm so toast.

"But so am I."

"Are you kidding?" I blurted out. "I bet you've never sinned in your life!"

Ann laughed and then said, "You'd be betting wrong. We're all sinners and we've all messed up. That's why we need Jesus. He's the only one who didn't sin and he's the only one who can save us from our sin."

"But you don't know all of the bad stuff I've done. Especially when it comes to girls. I—I've done things I don't even want to talk about, they're so bad."

Ann answered: "What's your point? Jesus still loves you no matter what you've done. He can save you if you believe in him."

Something inside of me broke, and I felt tears burning in my eyes. I didn't cry, but it was the closest I'd come since I was little kid. "Ann," I said with my voice shaking. "I want Jesus to save me."

Several months after becoming a Christian, I stood on a podium with a gold medal hanging around my neck. With God's help and a lot of practice, I'd won the state wrestling championship for my weight class. But something even better happened a few weeks later. I was in my room when my younger brother dropped by. He was a sophomore and, like me, on the wrestling team. Sometimes he'd drop by to get advice on some wrestling move. Not this time.

"Umm," he said nervously. "Do you think I can go to church with you this weekend?"

I felt like cheering. But to keep from scaring him off, I shrugged and said calmly, "Sure, that'd be cool."

That's how Caleb started going to church with me. He eventually made his own personal commitment to Christ. It's not like we'd ever had any big discussions about God. But he'd apparently been listening as I stopped bragging about how great a wrestler I was or how far I got on a date. Without knowing it, I was having a positive influence on my brother.

As he would later tell me, he liked what he saw in my life and wanted what I had. It was kind of like that between Ann and me. The way she lived her life made me want to follow Christ.

As great as it was to win that gold medal, it's nothing compared to living all-out for Jesus. Five years from now my medal will be gathering dust somewhere, but seeing lives change for Christ—that's what will really last. Forever.

After high school, Josh attended Central Michigan University. He graduated in 2006 and then volunteered for a year in Camden, New Jersey, with the organization Mission Year.

A Winning Idea

How one teen's invention is making a difference in the lives of African amputees.

Grayson Rosenberger, 15, often asked God where he fit into his parents' work with prosthetic patients in Africa. His mother lost both legs as a result of a car accident. To provide hope to others with this same setback and share Christ, Grayson's parents founded a non-profit organization called Standing with Hope (standingwithhope.com).

But how could Grayson fit in?

After one of their trips to Africa, Grayson's parents told him about Daniel, a boy his age. "He broke his leg playing soccer and had to have it amputated," Grayson said. "Standing with Hope could only afford to give him a basic metal-rod prosthetic leg. The kids always teased him and he wanted a cosmetic covering. But they're so expensive that even some Americans can't afford them."

Hearing of Daniel's experience, Grayson wanted to somehow invent a low-cost cosmetic covering for prosthetics. So, when Grayson heard about Sealed Air Corporation's Bubble Wrap Invention Competition, he came up with a crazy idea. He wrapped a prosthetic rod with bubble wrap and then used heat to mold it into the shape of a leg.

With a colored stocking pulled over the Bubble wrap, the leg is very realistic looking. And it only cost $15 instead of the $1,000 or more a cosmetic leg covering would normally cost.

Grayson won the contest's $10,000 prize.

Joy from Sadness: Last June, Grayson and his parents traveled to Ghana, Africa, to fit amputees with new legs. He was excited to meet Daniel and give him the invention he helped inspire. But when the Rosenbergers arrived at the Ghana clinic, doctors told them Daniel had died from malaria just a few weeks earlier. "My heart sank," Grayson said. "But I knew God had called me there for a reason."

Grayson refit Daniel's leg for another boy. "Someone will walk because of Daniel," Grayson said. "As I put the boy's leg together, I envisioned Daniel."

For 10 days, Grayson, his parents, and other staff worked 10 to 13 hours a day. The Rosenbergers fit 25 people with brand new legs. They also trained clinic workers to build Grayson's invention. "We had some long days," Grayson said. "But I had the best job on the production line. I got to put the end piece on the leg and watch people walk on two legs."

Returning Gifts of Love

Claire Peterson's life was changed by caring Christians. Now, she's trying to do the same.

Small gifts, changed lives: Claire Peterson, 19, knows a shoebox can change a life. Each Christmas, she and her four adopted sisters pack up more than 30 boxes of gifts to send to needy children around the world. Claire gives because she was once one of those needy children.

Before being adopted by John and Marie Peterson of Texas, Claire lived in a Russian orphanage since her alcoholic mother left her in a train station when she was 5.

Claire doesn't remember being given any gifts before she turned 13. So when American missionaries with Operation Christmas Child handed her a present, she began to cry. "We always got candy at Christmas in the orphanage, but this time we each got a box filled with toys, hair clips, lip gloss and more," Claire said. "Just to know someone from across the world loved me really touched my heart."

More than a shoebox: Operation Christmas Child is a gift-giving program developed by Samaritan's Purse. They offer more than just presents. Operation Christmas Child missionaries were the first people to tell Claire about Jesus.

Still, things looked bleak. At Claire's orphanage, when girls graduate from school (usually around 16), they are forced to leave. If they cannot find jobs, many become prostitutes just to survive. Claire worried about her future—but trusted solely in the Lord. Often, Claire would retreat to a closet to pray so that she wouldn't be discovered and beaten. "We weren't allowed to show our faith or pray in the orphanage," she said. "But my only hope was God."

Spreading her blessings: Those prayers seemed answered when Claire met John and Maria Peterson, two Operation Christmas Child donors who'd come to Russia to adopt a set of twins, Molly and Abby, now 16. "When I saw them I knew they were my parents," Claire said. The Petersons felt the same way. They wanted to adopt Claire, but paperwork snags made it impossible.

"I knew I was supposed to be with them," Claire says. "So,

I told Molly and Abby what God was telling me. When they could speak English, they translated it to the Petersons."

It took time to work through the paperwork—almost two whole years—but the Petersons not only returned to adopt Claire but also two biological sisters, Julianne, now 19, and Tess, now 14. "It feels so good to have parents, real sisters, and to be loved," Claire says. "And it's just as awesome that our parents are so caring that they had been sending boxes overseas long before they ever adopted us."

Now, Claire wants to be a missionary to orphaned children. Through Operation Christmas Child, she's getting a head start. Last year, she and Julianne went to Belize to hand-deliver gift boxes.

"After each child cried and thanked me, I gave him or her a hug, said I loved them, and that Jesus does too," Claire says.

You Can Make a Difference


An 11-year-old girl from Redmond, Washington, says she has had
enough of the low-cut, tight-fitting styles of today.
And recently she did something about it.

Rising sixth-grader Ella Gunderson wrote a letter to a Nordstrom
department store, complaining of how few modest clothing choices
were available for girls. She says she had two very important
reasons for objecting to the immodest styles she found so
prevalent on the store's racks: "One, they're not comfortable,
and two, you really shouldn't sacrifice your human dignity for
the sake of fashion."

The Seattle-area youngster wrote that, while clothes shopping at
a local Nordstrom store, a clerk had suggested to her that
"there is only one look," a bit of fashion advice Ella resisted.
"If that is true," she wrote to Nordstrom, "then girls are
suppost (sic) to walk around half naked. I think that you
should change that."

Ella also stated, "I see all these girls who walk around with
pants that show their belly button and underwear. Even at my
age, I know that is not modest."

The child's letter, which founds its way up the Nordstrom's
corporate ladder -- all the way to executive vice president Pete
Nordstrom -- drew an overwhelming response and prompted company
officials to write back, promising to offer a wider range of
clothes.

And as Ella's mother, Pam Gunderson, notes, not only did
Nordstrom's write back, but so did almost every girls' clothier
around. "There seems to be a note that was struck that really
spoke to a lot of people about this," she says.

But the very thing that struck such a resonant chord with the
clothiers merely struck Gunderson and her daughter as obvious:
that the trend toward provocative and immodest garb has been
taking over in the clothing industry.

"I think the funny thing
for us is that we don't think it's news. We think anyone who's
been buying clothing for girls or women has known this for a
long time," she says.

Nevertheless, the Seattle-area family found themselves in a media
maelstrom after word spread about Ella's letter. So not long
afterwards, Ella and her friends in a Catholic girls group called
Challenge took advantage of the spotlight and held a fashion show
to demonstrate what kind of clothing they wanted to wear.

Gunderson says the windfall of fame her daughter's letter
prompted was unexpected, but God led the message. And she adds,
what has been great about the whole experience is "the prayer
power behind it."

The mother says her family and the others involved started
praying a special Catholic prayer called the Novena nine days
before the fashion show. "Our whole prayer was just that it
would be God's will," she explains, "just that the fashion show
would be whatever He wanted it to be and would speak to whomever
He wanted to hear about it."

Gunderson says right after the group started praying, a story
appeared about them in the local paper. And soon afterward, she
adds, news outlets around the country began to take notice as well.

An article in the Catholic Northwest Progress, a publication of
the Archdiocese of Seattle, notes that Ella Gunderson has so far
been interviewed on NBC's Today show and on CNN about her
campaign for more modest clothing style choices, and that
newspapers and magazines around the country have helped spread
her pro-modesty message, as have thousands of Internet
publishers.

Zach Hunter, Freedom Fighter
Meet a modern-day abolitionist.



Unbelievable Reality: Zach Hunter, 15, is a modern-day abolitionist. The Atlanta teen has been fighting to free slaves around the world since he was 12. "We were studying slavery in school," he says. "I told my mom if I was alive back then, I would have done something about it." Zach was shocked when his mom told him that slavery still exists. "That's when I knew I had to do something," he says.

Zach started praying, studying and researching about slavery around the world. "When I discovered there are more slaves today than during the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, I couldn't believe it," he says. "My heart hurt for these 27 million kids and adults."

Looking for History Makers: After seeing the full picture of modern-day slavery, Zach felt led to launch a campaign he called "Loose Change to Loosen Chains" (LC2LC). He began speaking at schools, churches and other organizations to raise both money and teen awareness.

"I wanted kids my age to get on board to help," he says. "I want us to make history—and I don't mean to get our names in some history book, but to be known as a generation that did something for God, cared for the poor, and totally stopped slavery."

In its first year, LC2LC raised $8,500 to donate to the International Justice Mission's work fighting the slave trade.

Amazing Opportunities: Zach's opportunities to spread his message really took off when his mom was hired by the movie company Walden Media. The company was just beginning to promote Amazing Grace, a film about Christian abolitionist William Wilberforce (coming soon to DVD). The company asked Zach's mom to find a teen to help with their national campaign. Walden wanted someone who had a real passion about ending slavery. She couldn't wait to tell Zach. "I was totally psyched," he says.

After an extensive interview at Walden, he became the global student spokesperson for The Amazing Change, an anti-slavery campaign launched in conjunction with Amazing Grace. And then, Zach was hired to write the book Be the Change: Your Guide to Freeing Slaves and Changing the World in Other Ways (Zondervan).

In the last year and a half, Zach has taken his passionate message to conferences and music festivals across the country, speaking to more than half a million people. His campaign has also received major media attention from national outlets including Good Morning America and Newsweek.

"This all happened so fast. And none of this would be possible without Jesus Christ," he says. "He set me free, so I want to help others find that same freedom."

We Didn't Know How to Help

Seth* called me!" Allison squealed, leaning against her locker. Until then, I'd been focused on getting my books for my next class. But Allison's excitement caught my attention right away.

Seth had graduated from high school two years ago. He was the type of guy who dated lots of girls but never took any of them seriously. Allison had a crush on him for years, but he'd never given her a second thought until recently.

I exchanged a worried look with our friend, Sarah, but Allison didn't notice at all.

"He asked me out on a date," she gushed. "He has the entire weekend planned."

"Weekend?" I asked, trying to hide my concern.

"He goes to college two hours away," Allison explained. "He says I can stay with a girl who lives in his dorm."

"Still," Sarah said, "your parents will never go for this."

Allison shrugged her shoulders, annoyed. "I'll figure it out."

"Allison," Sarah asked slowly, "Are you sure you should …"

"He's totally changed since high school," Allison shot back.

The bell rang and we headed to class. I had a sinking feeling that Allison was headed for trouble. But I didn't want to upset her, so I didn't say much more about her plans.

Allison knew her parents would never agree to let her visit Seth at college. So she told them she was spending the weekend with Sarah and me.

"I don't want to be part of this lie," I told Sarah after school. "I don't know what to do. I'd hate to get her in trouble with her mom and dad."

"Yeah," Sarah admitted. "What do we do? Tell on her? Hopefully he'll take her out once and then it will be over."

But as the weeks went by, Allison and Seth got more and more serious. Seth became Allison's world. He was all she talked about. She continued to lie to her parents because she didn't want them to find out about Seth. She stopped going to youth group. And I couldn't help but notice that she didn't hand in some homework assignments.

Even though they'd only been dating for three months, Allison spent the weekend of her 18th birthday with Seth. The next Monday, she came back to school smiling.

"Look!" she squealed, flashing a diamond ring as we stood around before class. "We're engaged."

Sarah and I stared at the ring, then each other.

"Allison," I said slowly. "You're a senior. What about your plans for college?"

"Everything will work out," she said.

"But you haven't even told your parents about Seth," Sarah said.

"I'm going to tell them soon," Allison protested.

"We're just really worried," I said. "We don't hang out like we used to. And I couldn't help but notice you've forgotten your homework a few times."

"You're checking up on me?" Allison said angrily, yanking her backpack over her shoulder. "If you were my real friends, you'd be happy for me." She stormed away.

For the next few weeks, Allison didn't speak to Sarah or me. I felt like Seth had stolen one of my best friends.

"We have to talk to her," Sarah said one day at lunch.

I glanced across the cafeteria and saw Allison sitting alone, flipping through a bridal magazine. "What are we going to say?" I asked. "She doesn't want to talk to us."



Sarah shrugged. "But we have to do something. …

Maybe we should tell someone about our concerns."

"Who?" I asked. "If we tell her parents, she'll never talk to us. What about our youth pastor? Maybe he can help."

"I don't know," Sarah said. "She'd think we told just because we don't like Seth."

"She needs help," I said. I felt horrible, like there was nothing I could to help my friend, except pray for her.

The following week, I couldn't help but notice that Allison looked really sick. For the first time in weeks, she sat next to us at lunch.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I might be pregnant," she whispered.

"Did you take a test?" Sarah asked, concerned.

"I couldn't," she sobbed. "I'm too afraid."

"Does Seth know?" I asked.

"I told him," she cried. "He broke up with me."

I took a deep breath. "OK," I said. "After school we'll go with you to get a pregnancy test."

Allison agreed, and when the final bell rang we drove to the drugstore and bought a pregnancy test. Then we went back to my house and waited while Allison took it.

A few minutes later, she came out of the bathroom and handed the test to Sarah.

Sarah and I looked at the test, then the back of the box which explained what all the different lines meant.

"It's negative," I told her. "You're not pregnant."

She forced a smile. "I guess I should call Seth."

"He broke up with you because he thought you were pregnant," Sarah said gently. "Do you really want to be with a guy like that?"

"Well, I guess you're right," Allison admitted, then started crying again. "I just feel so guilty about everything."

Sarah and I knew that Allison needed help. So we convinced her to tell her youth group leader everything that had happened. Her youth group leader was really understanding, and even helped Allison tell her parents about Seth. At first, they were shocked and angry. But their relationship survived.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that Sarah and I should have tried to convince Allison to talk to someone a lot earlier. Allison made her own choices, but maybe we could have saved her some heartache. It's hard to know.

Even though I'm not sure that we did everything right, I'm glad that Sarah and I were there for Allison when she was feeling alone and afraid. Even though our friendship was strained, we showed love to her. And I'm proud, too, of the promise we made to each other: That we'd always speak up when one of us needed a reality check—and if that person didn't listen, we wouldn't hesitate to talk to a caring adult.

Brian Sumner, Pro Skateboarder

Brian had everything he wanted. But he still felt empty.

Successful but lonely:
Growing up in a bad area of Liverpool, England, Brian Sumner always loved skateboarding. But it wasn't until he moved to America at 16 that his skateboarding dreams started coming true. By 19, he went pro and got sponsors. He won prize after prize in tournaments. "It seemed as though everything I wanted, I got," he says. "Still I was so empty."

When things fell apart, Brian had nothing to fall back on. "I was angry and getting into fights," he says. "I didn't see the purpose of life." Brian faced court battles and charges for his actions. He was repeatedly turned down for U.S. citizenship. He was alone and suicidal.

Old life gone:
Brian was placed on probation for fighting and sentenced to community service at a Christian thrift store. "That's when I began to seek God," says Brian. "I went to church once as a kid, but I didn't hear anything about Jesus." He started reading the Bible, studying several different religions, and praying to a God he wasn't sure existed. "One night I said, 'Lord if you're real, show me.'"

Right then, Brian felt empowered by the Holy Spirit. "Jesus came into my heart, saved me, and delivered me from my old life," Brian says. He's now a U.S. citizen. He serves as a deacon of his church in California. And, of course, he's still skateboarding. He loves jumping, grinding, riding rails and flying over flights of stairs. "But what I like best is when I can share Jesus," he says.

Reaching out:
When he was saved, Brian developed friendships with Christian boarders. However, he also made a point to hang out with non-Christians too. "I could have started an all Christian skateboarding club," he says. "But like Jesus said, we need to reach the lost. What I like best about skateboarding now is when I can use it to share Jesus. It's cool when another skater asks how I stay so upbeat."

Honouring God with your talents

Davonne and Damon Ross from Annapolis, Maryland, are spreading their love for both gospel music and Christ.

"When we started high school, there were a lot of different choirs," says Davonne. "But none of them allowed you to really express your faith." So, the 17-year-old twins and their friend Alex convinced their music teacher to let them have a gospel choir. "It wasn't hard," Damon says. "She could tell how much we like gospel music."

Davonne and Damon are helping others learn to love gospel music, too. At one choir performance last year, an elementary school teacher approached them. "She asked us if we'd be interested in being counselors at a gospel summer camp for kids," Davonne says. "We were so excited, we committed to it right then," Damon added. The two-week camp ran for its second year last June with about 30 elementary kids in attendance. It was hard work but ended with a successful concert for the community. "I loved working with the kids," Davonne said. "They caught on so fast."

Music has always come easily and naturally for the twins. They both play several instruments, including violin. Davonne taught herself to play piano at 10. And Damon has been conducting the children's choir at church since he was 13. Their mom, grandma, aunts, uncles and cousins have all sung in a family choir for 25 years. Damon started singing with them at 7 and was included on a CD they recorded in 2003. "It's great," Damon says. "We travel all over and spread the love of Jesus."

Davonne knows how hard it can be to witness at school, but has seen singing open doors. "Music is universal," Davonne says. "Gospel music rocks and has a message about God behind it." Both twins have had friends enjoy gospel music so much that they've invited themselves to church. Davonne says, "It's sweet to see God using our talents this way."