God Allows U-Turns for Teens: The Choices We Make Change the Story of Our Life (Paperback)

ABBOTSFORD, B.C., CANADA

Throughout my high school years, my one true goal was to do extended mission service overseas, so when I received a letter from Youth With A Mission (YWAM), I was psyched. I worked for a year after high school graduation to save the money I needed to go.

Several weeks before I was to leave, the unthinkable happened. I found out I was pregnant. Me, Susan, the good Christian girl, who generally kept herself out of trouble—until now. I had just recently broken up with my boyfriend because I felt what we were doing was wrong, and asked God to forgive me. More than anything, I wanted to serve Him with my life. But now my life was ruined. YWAM would never let a pregnant girl participate.

I spoke to a spiritual counselor, Ida, at church, and I knew my next step was to inform my parents. My mom and dad were both incredibly accepting and supportive. All my life they had taught me when you do wrong, you admit it and take responsibility. Then you can receive God's forgiveness and healing. They urged me to talk to the pastor and elders at our church. They also forgave me and urged the congregation to accept me. And they did. But the most surprising news came with a phone call from Hawaii. YWAM still wanted me to come and serve with them!

That spring I flew to Hawaii to begin my seven-month service. Although the staff and my co-workers tried hard to make me feel accepted, I felt very different. As the weeks passed and my pregnancy showed more and more, I felt embarrassed to be a part of the team. They're just being nice because they're supposed to be. Deep inside, I wished I'd never come.

The girls in the Mission gave me a baby shower, and in each small gift I found a Bible verse assuring me of God's love. God only loves me because He has to. After all, He loves the whole world. But how could He possibly even like me now? I struggled with the outpouring of God's forgiveness and acceptance.

Alone in my room that night, I knelt in prayer. "God, coming to Hawaii was a crazy idea. I can't share my faith with anyone. Who would listen to me anyway? They'll all take one look at my swollen stomach and say, ‘Who do you think you are, talking about God?'"

Susan, I do like you.

Where did that voice come from? Was I imagining something, or was God really speaking to me? I held my breath and listened.

The quiet voice continued. I'll show you tomorrow.

The next morning, during my quiet time, I had a strong feeling that God had someone in particular for me to talk to that day. Later, while taking a walk along the beach, I noticed a man, about forty-five, sitting on a bench reading a newspaper.

That's the one.

I sat down on the far side of the bench and made several attempts to reach the man. "Sir, can we talk?" I repeated several times. The man never budged. My heart started pounding, my face flushed, and my palms became sweaty as old doubts washed over me. Who did I think I was, presuming to hear the voice of God? Of course this man wouldn't want to listen to me.

I got up and started walking away when I heard the quiet voice again. This is the man I want you to speak with.

"Okay, Lord, I'll try again," I whispered. "Excuse me, sir? God told me I am supposed to talk with you," I blurted out.

He dropped his newspaper and glared at me. His steel gray eyes scanned my flushing face, flitted across the bulge of my loose dress, and rested on my left hand. His annoyance was obvious.

"Who do you think you are?" he scoffed. "God told you to talk to me?" He cleared his throat. "I bet you're not even married."

"You're right, I'm not married." I spoke the truth. "I know what I did was wrong, but God has forgiven me."

The man stared at me, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Then his lips began quivering and his eyes became moist. The man was crying, his big shoulders heaving with each sob. He pulled a checkered hanky from his pocket and blew his nose. In a husky voice he said, "I have a daughter about your age. She serves God, just like you—sings with the Continental Singers."

"You must be very proud of her."

His eyes filled with pain. "My daughter got pregnant in high school." He turned away from me. "And I made her get an abortion."

"I'm sure she's forgiven you," I told him. I watched him stiffen and wring his hands together.

"I haven't been to church since."

"God forgives you." I moved just a little closer to him on the bench.

"But I can't forgive myself." His face twisted like he was going to cry.

"You don't have to feel guilty forever," I told the man.

He jumped up, his newspaper falling onto the sand. He turned and walked briskly toward the hotel. I jumped up and ran after him. "Sir, God has forgiven you, please believe that," I yelled.

In the days and weeks to come, the reality of God's complete forgiveness worked its way into my heart. He told me what to say to the man on the beach, but He was also saying something to me between the lines: "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18). I recognized it immediately.

When my daughter was born, I named her Thalea, a Greek name for a flower just beginning to blossom. For ten years I raised her as a single mother, but God didn't intend for us to remain single. When I glided down the aisle of the church in my long white gown as my friends and family looked on, I knew it was not a day to dwell on my failures, but a day to celebrate God's grace in my life. I was as clean and pure as any bride, not because I had never sinned, but because Jesus Christ had washed me and made me "white as snow."

Bob's About-Face

MOUNT VERNON, OHIO

Bob wasn't new to our church. For years his grandparents brought him. Yet for as long as any of us had known him, this withdrawn boy didn't talk. Because of his background, most people pitied him.

As a youngster, Bob's mom had abandoned him to his grandparents. For fourteen years they faithfully brought him every Sunday. Though he was regular in attending our youth group, he didn't say a word, participate in games, or even answer when we asked how he was doing. Week after week, Bob wandered into our teen room and slumped down on the sofa. Alone and with a vacant look on his face, his hollow eyes locked on the floor.

"Aw, he just needs to lighten up," many kids said. We all tried talking to Bob and urging him to join our activities, but he always held back. He'd silently shrug his shoulders and continue looking down.

Eventually most of us felt there was no way to reach him, so we stopped trying. Except for my friend Meg. She started sitting next to Bob each week. Even though he sat there silent, Meg would make comments and try to include him. She really worked on making him feel welcome. I watched, as everyone joined in organized games, Meg urged Bob to participate. When there were discussions, she asked for his ideas. Patiently and consistently, she tried to show Bob that he was accepted, that God's love wouldn't give up on him. Week after week my friend kept trying to be Bob's ally.

One Sunday, Mike, our youth pastor, announced, "We're going on a camping trip next weekend!" We exploded with excitement. Everyone started chattering about packing and what to bring. Mike went on to explain that he wanted it to be a spiritual retreat as well as party time. "Oh, cool!" I shouted. "That sounds like fun," others said. A list circulated around the room and we all signed our name. Surprised, Mike noticed that Bob had signed up to go.

Friday night arrived. We all met at church with our sleeping bags, snacks, pillows, and overnight clothes. Everyone jabbered excitedly as the church vans loaded. Bob and his grandmother pulled up in their car and Meg and Mike ran over to greet him.

"Hey man, I'm glad you made it," I overheard Mike say as Bob climbed out of the car.

"Hurry and throw your stuff in the back of the van," added Meg.

Bob mumbled good-bye to his grandmother as he pulled his belongings out of the backseat. He walked with Meg and Mike to the van and tossed his things in with ours. Everyone was laughing and clawing their way to get a seat, but I noticed Bob quietly slipped into the front alongside Mike. As we pulled away from the church, our van was full of noise, music, talk, and laughter.

We finally arrived at the campsite and unpacked. After dinner, Mike shouted above the clamor, "Everybody around the bonfire!" The crackling fire welcomed us and soon we were all gathered in a circle. "Listen up," instructed Mike as he handed each of us a small white candle.

"I'm going to light my candle. Then I'll describe someone here tonight," he explained. "But," he continued, "I'm not going to tell you who it is."

"How will we know, then?" asked Ellie.

"When I'm done talking, I'll go over to that person and light his or her candle," Mike answered.

He explained that he wanted each of us to describe someone we admire and then light that person's candle. He said we'd continue around the circle until all candles were lit. With that, Mike began to describe someone in our youth group.

"There's a person here who is very faithful to church. He may not say much but he has a good heart," Mike said. He went on to share the good things he saw in this guy. Then, with his hand protecting the candle's flame, Mike walked over to Bob. He bent down and lit Bob's candle. Bob sat motionless; he just stared at the flickering flame. A hush fell over us and the only sounds were the occasional crack from the burning wood. It seemed like an eternity as we waited. Most of us had never heard Bob speak. I think Mike began to wonder if he'd made a mistake to light Bob's candle. Then Bob opened his mouth. Slowly he said, "There's somebody here who's always nice and talks to me." He said this person made him feel wanted more than anyone else ever had. Then Bob rose to his feet, walked past us all, and stopped where Meg was sitting. Her eyes filled with tears as Bob bent over and lit her candle.

Something happened that night. I believe God turned Bob around and touched every one of us on the trip. Soon Bob's look and expression changed. He was no longer a gloomy boy with hollow eyes who sat alone. Rather, he had confidence and began to open up and share with our group. Later, when we played games, Bob joined in. During devotions, his voice could be overheard talking to Meg.

"Sometimes we couldn't even get him to shut up," Mike joked later. Bob went on to make friends. We discovered he had a dry sense of humor but loved to joke around and act silly. Months later Bob mentioned to me, "When we were around that campfire, it was like a light had been turned on inside of me."

We are called to be disciples for Christ, to have His love light our world. God used my friend to be His worker. God made a U-turn in Bob's life... and in all our lives. It's what love is really all about, isn't it? Loving people who aren't always easy to love.