Sunday, June 24, 2012

A Story from my Youth


During Christmas break at the end 1971, our church high school youth group attended a Lutheran Youth Congress at a hotel located just outside of Washington, D.C.  The weather was unusually warm that winter.  One of the enticements to attend was the promise of a rink for ice skating, but all we got was a slushy mess.  The temperature during those two days topped 70 degrees.

My brother and I were both in high school at the time.  He was a 14 year old freshman and I was a 16 year old junior.  We did our best to avoid each other, so he went his way and I went mine, but we both remember the event, or parts of it, very well.

First, I remember trying very hard to catch the attention of a certain girl in our group.  We were already friends and saw each other at church multiple times during the course of a week.  The problem was that it was always in the context of worship or youth group.  This event provided the opportunity for me to make my move.  What would it be?  How might I impress her?  I didn’t have a plan.

I also remember that the keynote speaker for the event was Nicky Cruz, who had been the subject of David Wilkerson’s 1962 book, The Cross and the Switchblade.  The story had been released as a movie with the same title in 1970, so it was fresh in our minds.  Pat Boone played the role of evangelist Wilkerson and Erik Estrada played Cruz.

Nicky Cruz told us his compelling story.  He had been a gang member in New York City.  His life was on a violent path.  He met up with Wilkerson, whose preaching of an unconditionally loving Jesus transformed Cruz’s life.

He told his story to a ballroom full of Lutheran teens who sat in silence with rapt attention.  His words were meant to tug at every emotional string of a hormonal teenager’s fabric.  Girls were in tears.  Boys appeared stoic while sniffing their noses.  I was sitting right next to the girl I hoped would be my first real girlfriend.  I passed her a Kleenex.  That was surely worth a point in my favor.

Then, before I could even see it coming, there was an awkward moment that presented a golden opportunity.  The altar call.

I couldn’t believe it.  An altar call for hundreds of us Lutheran kids.  I looked down the row of seats for my brother.  His horrified look matched my own.   Where was our pastor?  What were we supposed to do?  We had been well schooled in our Lutheran upbringing to know that no decision on our part was necessary.  The decision had been made by Christ when we were claimed as children of God in baptism.

I had a non-Lutheran high school friend who was fond of reminding me, as often as he could as a part of his Christian calling, that I would spend eternity in hell because I had never been saved.  I had never accepted Jesus.  He just didn’t buy that Jesus had already accepted me.

A few years later, the author of some devotional material provided a response that would have come in handy.  She said when someone asked her if she had accepted Jesus as her personal Lord and Savior, she would respond by asking that person if she had accepted her mother.  Her point was that you cannot accept your mother.  She is simply your mother.  The same is true of Jesus.  Jesus is Lord and Savior.  Accept it or not.

Nicky Cruz called upon all of us who wanted to give our lives to Jesus to stand.  We were to take our time so we made a good decision.  Emotionally wrought young people across the room began to stand.  I didn’t.  Jesus and I were already in a good relationship.  But then, she stood.  She, whose affection and attention I sought, stood up.  What was I to do?  If I didn’t stand, she would think less of me no matter how I tried to explain.  If I did stand, well, in the end, what difference would it really make?  In a sense, I had recommitted myself to Christ at my confirmation.  I knew we renewed our relationship with Jesus every morning.  What would it hurt?  It was my golden opportunity to impress her and impress her mightily.  I stood.  We were asked to repeat a prayer that I don’t remember.  A great mumbling murmur swept the room.

My relationship with Jesus has continued now for a long time.  It began the day I was baptized and it continues to grow.  It is a personal faith lived out in the community of believers.  As for that youth event now so long ago, I sum it up this way.  I gave my life to Jesus, but I didn’t get the girl.

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