~When Grace is Sufficient~

Often Christian books will ask how we can remain silent when we have the answer of how to live forever inside of us. How can we let the dying walk by when we have the cure they need? The answer is simple, and I know because I've lived it.
Don't view the lost as lost.
They are creepy. They are freaks. They are hopeless. They might hurt me. They are mean. They are scary. They are culturally unacceptable.
Unfortunately for us, none of those excuses are acceptable to the One who dined with sinners.
I figured that out today.

Our schedule changed multiple times today. Originally we were going to run at the community college, but then Anna and Joshua fell asleep, and it started raining, so we put that off. By the time the rain stopped, we were close to Chapin Park, so Mom decided to walk there instead. Mom and I walked around the track while the kids played on the playground.
There were some teenage guys hanging around under the covered area, messing with skateboards, texting, and laughing loudly. They were your average kids; black shirts, long hair, skull caps. I circled around them the long way to reach the track, but not far enough to miss the smell of cigarettes. They were the kind of group that I usually (always?) avoid at all costs.
Something was different this time, however. There was nothing different about them than any other group I had seen. But for some reason, when I looked at them, the word 'creepy' wasn't the first one that entered my mind, as it usually was. The first thing I thought when I saw them was 'lost'.
I thought that was kind of weird, even if it was true. It didn't stop there however. My next thought was, "I have some Bible tracts in the car."
Then... "I cannot believe I just thought that."
If it had stopped there, it might have been normal, but then came the thought, "What good is a Bible tract if you never do anything with it?"
I almost physically shook my head. "You have GOT to be kidding me!" I glanced across the field at the covered area. "No way! They are wearing black! They could seriously cause me harm! I'm a girl. He's smoking! They are teenage guys in black in a park for crying out loud!"
I'll have you know that I don't make it a habit of talking to teenage guys at parks. In fact, I make it a habit not to talk to anyone at the park that I don't know. But the minute I started listing to God all the reasons why I shouldn't do it, I knew He was telling me to. The fact that I was even considering it was enough to let me know that I didn't come up with this myself. And I knew I would never be able to live with myself if I didn't even try.
Then I had an idea. I would go ask Mom. She would never let me go talk to those weirdoes, and if she said 'no', that would have to be the end of it.
Well, you can probably guess what happened. She didn't say no. In fact, she congratulated me on my good thinking. As if it was mine. And then she told me to pray about it. Exactly what I had been avoiding doing halfway around the park.
So I slowly walked to the car (very slowly) and painstakingly dug through my purse (very painstakingly) and pulled out a tract I had picked up at the fair.
It was a two-question test to determine whether you were going to heaven. I started walking around the park again, this time reading the tract to make sure it was theologically sound. Of course, I had done this when I got it, but no harm in doing it again, right?
I turned and started walking towards the covered area, praying like crazy. I wanted nothing more than to walk away. The only reason that I didn't was that there was no way I could turn back now.
Two of the guys had left, leaving only two under the covered area. One was at least seventeen and large. He was laying on the table texting and he was also the guy who was smoking. I decided I did not want to talk to him.
The other kid was less intimidating. He looked like he was about fourteen or fifteen, longish hair, purple shirt, skate board. I could handle him, he was younger than me, and skinny.
I took a deep breath, walked up, and attempted a friendly, "Hey."
He turned. "Yeah?"
I swallowed hard. "Can I give you something?" I held the tract out to him. "It's free."
I started to walk away. I had absolutely no intention of talking to him anymore, I'd just let God work. But God decided not to work that way.
The kid read the title out loud, then called after me, "Hey, what is this?"
Don't ask me why I turned around, but I did.
"Do you know where you are going when you die?" I asked. I almost hit myself. Wouldn't a simple, "It's a Bible tract," have done just fine?
"Nowhere." The kid went on to say that it was just black when you died. Then he said something along the lines of "Everyone has their own beliefs."
I could hardly believe it. He sounded just like all the evangelists said he would sound.
We talked for a little bit, when suddenly the older kid shouted over his shoulder, "What are you talking about?"
I ignored him because, frankly, I was scared out of my socks of that guy.
But he persisted. He listened for a second then said in a I-can't-believe-this tone, "Are you talking about God?"
I guess he took my ignoring him and the other kids nervous stutter as a yes. He jumped (no kidding, he jumped) off the table and said emphatically, "There is no God."
I (very quietly) said, "You can't know that."
"I'm an atheist."
Apparently.
He got very worked up. He almost seemed angry as he repeated, "There is no God."
Yes, I believe you said that.
I didn't say that, but I felt like it.
Then he said something along the lines of, "If there was a God, there wouldn't be *bleep*."
The younger kid piped up again, kind of stuttering. "Yeah-- yeah, there wouldn't be death, or *bleep*, and there'd be clean air."
I said (still quietly), "That's kind of our fault."
Then their two friends came back, talking about try-outs or something. I was still terrified, and now I was even more scared. Mom was getting the kids ready to go, and I figured this would be a good time to make an exit. I slowly started to back away.
The older guy called after me, still angry, "There is no God!"
"I wouldn't bet your life on it." Then I left.

No, there was no conversion. I didn't walk them down Romans Road, try the Kirk Cameron stuff on them, or pray the sinners prayer with them. I just talked to them.
The sad truth is, I had never done that before. I had never shared my faith with an unbeliever before today. I still can't quite believe that I did.
Mom told me that I had guts, but that's not true. I had nothing. As a good friend of mine once told me, I was empty of myself, from here, it was all God. I was totally outside my comfort zone. I couldn't believe that the first person God had me witness to was a teenage guy in black. Couldn't it have been a girl?
But God's ways are not our ways. If I had been comfortable, unafraid, I wouldn't have needed God. As it was, I had nothing else to lean on. I felt completely alone.
But in the end, it was amazing. I'm hooked. Not to talking to teenage guys in a park (in fact if I never do that again that's okay with me), but to sharing my faith. It was a new, exciting, and enthralling experience.
If they read the tract, those boys may have gotten to hear about God's grace for the first time, and even if they didn't, at least they have a reason to wonder if there is a God. And I got to discover grace all over again.

"And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness." Therefore most gladly will I boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. ~2 Corinthians 12:9