He almost shocked me with his
statement. Not almost, he did shock me. I had to think long and hard, and pray
myself to sleep that night asking God to give me wisdom to help this boy
understand God’s love and grace.
Austin was just eleven years
old, one of nine boys in my cabin at Boys Camp. We were walking together, just
me and Austin, on our way across the camp to an activity. I had five minutes of
rare one on one time and did not want to waste it. The previous night I had asked
the boys to share when they had become a Christian, and he was one of three
boys who did not volunteer a response.
So, as we walked I asked him
quickly about his family, about his church life, and then asked him if he had
ever thought much about asking Jesus to be in his life. He responded clearly
and thoughtfully, “Yes, I have thought about it. And I have decided that I do
not want to be a Christian. There would be too much expectations put on me and
I know I would fail. Probably big time. And everyone would say to me that I had
said I was a Christian, but look what you did. So, no, I don’t want to be a
Christian.”
Before I had a chance to
follow up we came to Thursday morning mass invitation, where everyone who wants
to accept Jesus is asked to raise their hand, then go outside to talk with
their counselor. Six of my boys raised their hands, so we set in a circle while
I attempted to do spiritual triage. Two boys were solidly saved, already, so I
prayed with them to renew their relationship with Jesus. Of the other four, two
had prayed repeatedly, at camp or elsewhere to accept Jesus, but I decided to
include them with the other two as we prayed to invite Jesus into their hearts.
One of those two was Austin.
When the invitation was given
the hands popped up right on cue, and the boys were chomping to run outside,
some, perhaps, just for a diversion. They knew the drill. But Austin was
reluctant. In fact he had not raised his hand. I noticed it and said another
prayer, a quick one, that the Holy Spirit would be powerful in his heart at
that very moment. And he came out to talk with us.
I talked to him some more, later,
and discovered that he was from a divorced family. His mother had basically
deserted him, and his father had pretty much turned away from the faith. Austin
had always assumed he was just about as “Christian” as he was going to get
because a clergy had crossed his forehead with holy water one time.
But grace and love were
making an impact on his heart. The more we talked about it the more I could see
that the light was coming on inside him. I went out of my way the last few days
to guard him against the fiery darts of legalistic demands and from the nagging
criticism of young demanding counselors that almost ripped at the very fabric
of his tender heart a few times.
I had shared with the entire
staff of counselors what Austin had said. They were moved to pray, and to root
for him. Priscilla, the nurse, was one
in particular who came alongside, big time, like a loving mother. On Saturday
morning, as the boys were leaving, she went out to talk to him and his folks
driving out of camp. But it was his grandfather who picked him up. She told him
that Austin had accepted Jesus into his life. She came and pulled me aside from
the mayhem and with utter joy told me that Austin’s grandfather burst into
tears of joy when he heard that good news.
Praise you Jesus, your love
is powerful, amazing, and life changing. The angels in heaven rejoice when one
person repents (Lk 15:7, 10, 32). Austin is a child of God.
