Two years ago, a 15-year-old girl committed suicide. I went to her funeral. The Friday before, she was in my sophomore English class. I couldn’t even remember what she looked like. I asked God, “Where were you?” and he answered, “All things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to his purpose.”
The following Monday, I planned to speak about God’s salvation to a group of kids, many of them classmates and friends of this girl. A man invited me to the front. I wasn’t ready, but God put words in my mouth. I spoke of mistakes, destructive choices. I spoke of wrong decisions that can’t be erased, decisions that kill. I spoke of a 15-year-old girl who took her own life because she didn’t want God to have it.
I sat down, embarrassed for having said so much. Another leader prayed. We broke for snacks. A boy approached me to talk about what I’d said. We talked a long time. I looked around the room. The other five leaders were having conversations similar to mine with kids who wanted to know more of God. Usually they just wanted snacks. This night was different.
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