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Reaching out to the youth incarcerated at the local juvenile detention center had been another eye-opening venture. The number in attendance varied widely from week to week and I was still learning how things operated and how best to reach these kids. It was easy to see they were troubled and perhaps their greatest question regarding God was the timeless question of, “If God is good, why is there so much suffering in the world?”    One young man stands out in my mind. Only two youth had decided to attend on this particular day. I was a little disappointed that more kids hadn’t chosen to attend, but God is wise and God is good. When there are a lot of kids, they tend to put their guard up. It is far less likely that any would show vulnerability or answer too honestly in a crowd. With only two, this young Native American was soft-spoken, but bared his soul. When I asked why he had chosen to come, his answer was, “I think I need a little Jesus.” To which I replied, “Don’t we all!”    He went on to share how both his mom and his grandma had been encouraging him to pray and to go to church. He seemed to have found himself in a place where he may as well give it a shot. He was quick to point out more than once, however, that he wasn’t too sure he believed there really was a God. When I asked him what made it hard for him to believe in God, his answer—maybe even more so, the look in his eyes and the hushed brokenness in his voice—broke my heart. He had never experienced any of the good, the blessings, that God seemed to promise in the Bible. On the streets, it had never paid to “be good.” Being good only got you in a place where you would be taken advantage of, beat up, abused. It didn’t get you food or clothes or a safe place to sleep. Lying and stealing, being “tough,” seemed to be the only thing that worked in his world.   I have been learning so much about the difference between “my” world and “their” world. The stories of the women in the jail, the kids in the behavioral health center . . . their homes and families were a far cry from the blessing I was born into. More and more I have been thinking of the children (who are now incarcerated youth or adults) who did not choose to be born into poverty, addiction, neglect, abuse. No more than I got to choose to be born into a home with Christian values, stability, warmth, food . . . love. Suddenly rather than my typical response of why there is suffering in the world: Genesis 3, The Fall, sin, and of personal accountability—making better choices, having a better work ethic—and pointing my finger at them, I found my finger pointing back at me . . . at the church. Where had we been, as Christians? If we are to be the light in this dark world . . . if we are to be the hands and feet of Christ . . . if we are to be  Christ to these people . . . where had we been ? As this young man was stealing food in order to have a meal, I may have been at a restaurant, a party, or a potluck at my church. As he was shivering in the cold without warm clothes or even a place to sleep, I may have been in my recliner in front of the fire, taking a hot bath, or crawling into my warm bed.    As this young man questioned if there really was a God because he had never experienced the rumored love or the promised blessings, I realized how I had failed him . . . how the church had failed him. If one  Christian had stepped into his life—not just to drop off a quilt, or a donation for the school he had dropped out of, but really  stepped into his life—with mentoring, with a meal at a family dinner table, with new shoes to wear as they played a game of scrimmage— together , with a phone call to see how he was doing . . .  If one Christian had left their white picket fence world to enter into his messy, hard world . . . he would have seen Christ. He would have known  there was a God. That would have been his evidence. And he may not have ended up sitting in the seat across from me . . .   It’s not considered respectful for a Native American to stare into the eyes of an elder, it would be considered aggressive or rude. So, when he did lift his downcast eyes to meet mine briefly, all I could answer with in that moment was, “There’s a verse in the Bible that says: ‘They will know we are Christians by our love.’ I’m afraid we haven’t done that very well.”   May we go out with as much love as we do evidence. May we be willing to enter into the messy and the hard. May we meet them where they are and shine the light we have been given, to give them hope.    “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9 NIV   “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” 1 John 13:35 NIV   “In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”   Matthew 5:16 NIV

It was like a big garage or a warehouse. The walls, probably fifty feet tall, were made of cinder blocks. All painted white. About two thirds of the way up, there was a ledge about five feet wide that went all the way around the room. It was a huge space, completely empty . . .  with the exception of the ladder. It was like a regular, free-standing painting ladder—forming a tall  triangle, but it was much taller than any ladder I’d ever seen. I’m quite sure they don’t make ladders that style that tall, and for a reason. It made for a pretty precarious ascent.    A woman was climbing the ladder and there was a man on the ledge. He was trying to hold the ladder—to steady it—but it was just a little too far from the ledge. He stood on the ledge and watched her climb steadily upward. As she neared the top, the ladder began to sway . . . and that is when she fell. Probably thirty or forty feet down, landing on a concrete floor.   People, who came from seemingly nowhere, rushed to her still body lying on the ground, face up. As they pulled her towards them, a wet stain streaked behind her head on the concrete floor. It didn’t look good. But then, she was up! A little disoriented and feeling a little woozy, but she seemed okay. There was a little blood matted in her hair, but she seemed able to go about functioning as normal.   Amazed that she could have survived the fall so well, I stepped up to examine her head more closely. As I parted the bloody, matted hair, I could see there was an entire section of her skull completely missing. Her brain was completely exposed. The injury was so devastating that it seemed there was no way she could actually be alive, let alone functioning as seemingly normal.   And that was it. That was the whole dream. I pondered it that morning, but I couldn’t make much sense of it. I really had no idea what it could mean. I proceeded with my devotionals and my time with the Lord. I found myself journaling a bit—which I can tend to do when my head and my heart are trying to wrestle something out or to resolve something. I was journaling about my journey, and where God was leading. It had been this crazy, winding, path—never going where I would have expected, sometimes running into what seemed dead-ends—that appeared to have brought me right back to where I started: creation ministry . . . only much more prepared!    You see, with the closing of Chrysalis and in the absence of ongoing missionary support, I had applied for a position at Answers in Genesis (AiG). If I had to get a “real” job, I had thought perhaps I could at least use my science background, as well as my passion for sharing the gospel with evidence, by doing some researching and writing for this ministry that had really sort of started it all for me. And as I googled job openings at AIG, tucked in amongst cafeteria workers, greeters, zookeepers, and web designers, there it was . . . Science and Apologetics Writer/Editor. It couldn’t have been a more fitting job description! Since it would be mostly reading and writing, I was hoping they might consider allowing me to do the job remotely. In my mind, it could be perfect! The initial interviews had gone well, indeed, they seemed to perhaps be considering how they might use my skills and experiences beyond the position that I had applied for.    In my musings, I found myself wondering if, indeed, it may be time to go back to the “real world.” Just like I tell other women who struggle with addictions that there may be a day when they will be strong enough to go back for friends and family fighting the same battle . . . was it time for me to go back for “my people”? The churched . . . the people in the pews . . . the modern-day Pharisees . . . those wondering if there was something more to truly following  Jesus . . . all the Nicodemuses out there? Was my surrender sure enough? My roots deep enough? My faith great enough?      Just after finishing my musings, I checked my emails. Even as I had been journaling, I had received an email from AiG saying they would like to visit with me about a possible Speaker position! I had not dared to dream of such a thing, and yet here it was—an amazing opportunity with an international ministry that was working to restore the authority of scripture, uphold the truth of God’s word and rebuild the church! The platform could be a tremendous opportunity. God willing, the kingdom impact could be huge. I wasn’t quite sure what to think or how to feel! Honored . . . overwhelmed . . . excited . . . intimidated . . .     It was then that the vision of the ladder came back to my mind. That’s what it had meant. I was being presented with an opportunity that could take my tendency to want to rise up on my own pedestal to the next level. This was a tall  ladder. And a fall from such great heights could be a fatal blow. My pride could possibly creep in until I began working, once again, in my own strength. Reveling in my own accomplishments and achievements, leaving God behind. The man on the ledge, wanting to steady that precariously tall ladder . . . but just out of reach?  It was Jesus.  Longing to help . . . but kept just out of arm’s reach.   I realized, I had better stay close!  If I was given the opportunity to do such incredible kingdom work, I had better keep that ladder right next to the wall.  I better let Jesus hold on tightly to me, steadying me as I took on this mission, rather than trying to do it alone.  I better not just get others to dig in God’s Word—I had better do it myself.  I better not become so confident in my ability that I lose sight of my desperate need for Him.  I better not build monuments to myself—rather, give all the glory to God.  Scripture warns us that pride goes before a fall.  And, the crazy thing is, that we can go on functioning as “normal” in this world, even as we are “dead” in the spiritual realm.  Lord, don’t let me try to do this on my own!  This . . .   or anything else that comes my way.  Let me stay so close to you that I may never fall.  Thank you for your warnings . . .   in your Word — and, especially, in my life.  I stand in awe that you would send a personal reminder . . . just for me.  Who am I that you would think of me . . . ?!   “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” Proverbs 16:18 NIV   “But when his heart became arrogant and hardened with pride, he was deposed from his royal throne and stripped of his glory.” Daniel 5:20 NIV   “Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.” John 15:4 NIV   “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” Ephesians 2:4-5   “…but she who is self-indulgent is dead even while she lives.” 1 Timothy 5:6 ESV   “…what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?” Psalm 8:4 NIV

In a trying season, I was reminded of John Wesley’s perspective on persecution. There was a time when he bemoaned the fact that he had gone three whole days without anyone throwing a brick or a rotten egg at him! That should be a good thing, except that Jesus Himself reminds us that if we are living a godly life, we will face persecution. And so, in this season, I was trying to remember that persecution could be a good indication that I was somehow on the right track. Some days it was harder to remember than others.   On this day, as I prepared to present to a group of adolescents at a behavioral health center, I once again had some trepidation. My confidence was down. The stench from rotten eggs and the bruises from bricks and stones being thrown at me were still fresh. Reflecting on all the things that had happened in the past week or so, I had come to realize that when I was not immersed—in God’s word and in Christian fellowship—my presentations were far less engaging or compelling. The Spirit was not in my words like it was when I had been filling with the Spirit. My devotionals and other things had been emphasizing that we don’t convince people of truth, we point them to Christ. Truth isn’t facts  to be convinced of, but a person —Jesus Christ! I resolved to go in love , to bring hope , not arguments. To point them to Christ, not debate worldviews. My resolve was soon to be tested.   From Bricks to “Blown Away”     A young man who was flamboyantly gay with a sweeping mop of blue hair on his head was quick to interject “witty” comments as I presented on the flood. When I asked them what they thought of when they heard the word “catastrophe” there were a few reasonable attempts to respond and this young man said with all seriousness, “When I think of the word catastrophe, I think of . . . diarrhea!"  I good naturedly agreed that could indeed be catastrophic! However, when I asked them about uniformitarianism, I asked, “How does everyone look when they are wearing a uniform?” (Seeking the response, “The same.”) The young man responded, “ Hot! ” Knowing I needed to nip this in the bud, I quickly dismissed his response by answering on my own.   As the talk progressed, the group seemed particularly engaged. Even the heckler ceased his heckling, even nodding in agreement from time to time. I ended by telling them that I brought this kind of evidence so that they might come to see the Bible as something they could place their trust in, to find hope in. That they were, indeed, made in the image of God and that he had a purpose for each of their lives—even if they were in the midst of hard circumstances. There wasn’t a lot of time for questions or discussion at the end, but I thanked them for their attention and they began to file out.   The blue-haired heckler approached as I was putting away my computer, with the chaplain putting away the projector nearby. I braced myself, but was surprised by what he had come to say. “I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for coming—and for using real science to make your points. It seems like whenever I have gone to a group like this, or approached a Christian with questions that I struggle with, they always point me back to the Bible. But if you don’t believe the Bible, their defenses are pointless! I am not saying that what you said today is going to change my mind about God or the Bible . . . but you’ve got me thinking!”   I was overjoyed! I told him that was exactly why I had left research and was doing what I was doing. That I believed with all my heart that this was a message that so many needed to hear.    As he left, another young man came back into the room. He, too, admitted that the presentation had “blown him away”! He asked if there had been people on the ark and seemed incredulous that the stories of the Bible could actually represent fact and history and science. I was able to share a bit more and point him to some resources if he was interested in more evidence for the Christian faith.   One More Question   As he left, the first young man returned. He said he had one more question for me, and I was pretty sure I knew what it was going to be. He went on to say, “I . . . well, I am gay. A lot of people use their faith to justify persecution and hateful treatment of people who are gay. I was wondering what you thought about this?”   Mind racing . . . so many things . . . we had already been informed that this was a topic the chaplain and staff would handle and that we weren’t to address it . . . the chaplain was right there . . . but mostly, it was the look in his eyes . . . it was so genuine, so raw . . . it was as though somehow I had been deemed a “nice Christian” and he was truly interested to know what I thought about this . . .   In that moment, it was as though I knew with no uncertainty that I was representing Christ to this young “gay” “heckler.” My heart was absolutely heavy with the weight of that responsibility. He had to see my love for him—Christ’s love for him. Yet I must stand for truth . . .     From the fruits of the wrestling I had been through in just that past week—as I washed off the rotten eggs and nursed the tender bruises from the cast stones—the love of Christ rose up and overflowed from the very heart of me.    “First of all, the people that are persecuting and hating on gays are NOT representing Christ. Christ told us to love everyone,  regardless. Those people are sinful people who are not following the teachings of Christ. I have family members that are gay, I love people who are gay.”   “I told you, I come not to tell you what  to believe, but why to believe. I point people to God’s word so that he  can tell them what is right and what is wrong. It is not my opinion, but God’s. As far as my  interpretation of what God says about homosexuality, I believe that God’s will is that we enter into monogamous, heterosexual relationships. We all have things we struggle with, I have my own things that I want to do that God says are wrong. And I wrestle with that because it seems good to me and I want to do those things. But because I have come to trust God and his word—that he is wise, and kind, and loving and knows what is best for me—I do my best to follow his guidelines for my life. It’s not just homosexuality, my brother struggled for years with addiction. There are those who say that there is a genetic component to that as well. Yet, addiction was not a good place for him to remain—I didn’t want him to stay there. In fact, his story is a big part of why I am here today. When God got a hold of him, he was absolutely transformed ! He was completely freed from his addiction. And, I have heard the same for many who struggle with homosexuality! That God completely freed them from those desires!”    Germinating Seeds   He just looked deep into my eyes with the most serious expression. Some sadness . . . it wasn’t what he had hoped to hear. But no defensiveness or hostility. It was as though he was really processing all of this at a really deep level. I had to thank him for how he was handling himself in this whole discussion. “Thank you for this civil discourse. It’s not always that way, you know. Sometimes, we too are treated poorly for what we believe.” He nodded in agreement, “I’m sure that’s true.” I affirmed once again, “So thank you. You have made my day. I want you to know that I will be praying for you on your journey.” He smiled a sweet smile and left with a nod and a wave.   I am so grateful that God knew how much I needed that encouragement and affirmation, myself, on that day. He doesn’t have  to show me any germinating seeds from my obedience—but he does! Oh, how I hope to someday see that young man in heaven! That God will one day show me the full bloom of that obedience—what God can do through us when we say yes . . . even in the face of persecution.   “So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God  he created them; male and female he created them.” Genesis 1:27 NIV   “In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will,” Ephesians 1:11 NIV   “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.” 1 John 4:7 NIV   “…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God…” Romans 3:23 NIV

I had begun to lead two adolescent spirituality groups each month at a local behavioral health center. One was a half-hour, mandatory session on Mondays. The other was an hour-long, voluntary session on Saturdays. Each of these offered a chance to provide evidence for the gospel—and the  hope  of the gospel—to confused and hurting young people. On a Saturday afternoon, a handful of youth wandered into the teaching room. One of them inquired as she entered, just what would we be doing in the group? I told her that it might be a little different than she expected . . . I was a scientist. She looked intrigued but still warned me that it had better be interesting—she was easily bored.   So Many Questions, So Much Confusion   Well, she wasn’t disappointed! It was an inquisitive group and a  lively  discussion. When they realized that I wasn’t just telling them  what  to believe but  why  they could believe the truths of Scripture, their interest was definitely piqued. One after the other, hands shot up to see what I thought about cavemen and dinosaurs. How could we explain the evidence of intelligence in ancient civilizations if we were still in the process of evolving from apes? How could people live to be over 900 years old?! There was such an obvious hunger for answers to these questions that had been lurking on the fringe of their faith—or keeping them from faith. Questions they hadn’t always felt safe to ask in church—and when they had asked, no one seemed to have the answers. Again, I was amazed by the number of questions these kids have, the  types  of questions they have, the false beliefs and misunderstandings that are rampant in our culture—especially among youth who are so heavily influenced by the internet, social media, and Hollywood. Their answer to ancient intelligence was aliens! I could assure them that we were created in the image of God, brilliant from the beginning and not evolving from apelike creatures. From a biblical perspective, we should not be surprised by the evidence of impressive scientific and cultural advancement. After all, within six generations of Adam, the Bible speaks of the establishment of agriculture, music, and metalworking (Genesis 4:20–22). We find the mighty warrior, David, and the prophet, Isaiah, hiding in caves—but that didn’t make them unintelligent! We don’t find “cavemen,” we find men living in caves.   These youth had been deceived by the mockumentary on mermaids. I could talk about the creation of kinds and how God had made them to reproduce after their own kind—not evolve into something else that was half fish, half human. And I could share the genetics behind that! I could point out the shortcomings of supposed “ape-men” fossils, often touted as “missing links.” Indeed, Darwin himself acknowledged the absence of “innumerable transitional forms” in the fossil record for what would have had to have been millions of years of evolutionary change in all life-forms. Rather, things just show up fully formed and functional—just as we would expect, according to God’s Word.   A Safe Place to Seek   I think they appreciated having a chance to voice their questions and be heard as much as they appreciated the answers I attempted to provide to their rapid-fire questioning. There was jesting amongst them and laughing. For a moment, there was joy and a hint of hope in their dark and troubled worlds—a chance to explore their beliefs and to sense hope that this whole loving God thing might actually be true! There was evidence, after all. I thanked God for that in our closing prayer and left encouraged that these kids had indeed felt his presence with them during our time together.   On Monday, the “easily bored” girl was still there, and as she came into the mandatory session, she seemed excited to have me there again. She pronounced publicly to the group of more than twenty that this would be an interesting session! Indeed, a month or so later, the same girl had returned to the behavioral health center, and again on seeing me, she voiced how glad she was to have “the science lady” back.   Part of her comment included that I let them ask questions instead of “just talking to us.” This series of encounters has really affirmed the need for us as believers and evangelists not only to provide evidence but to create a safe place for people to voice their current beliefs without judgment or condemnation and to create a loving environment where the gospel can be explored and hopefully received by skeptics and unbelievers!   “But there were also false prophets among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you. They will secretly introduce destructive heresies, even denying the sovereign Lord who bought them—bringing swift destruction on themselves.” 2 Peter 2:1 NIV   “For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.” 2 Timothy 4:3–4 NIV   “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.” James 1:19–20 NIV   “Don’t have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Opponents must be gently instructed, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth.” 2 Timothy 2:23–25 NIV

It was a quiet group of adolescents—maybe about 15 of them, ranging in age from 13 to 18 or so. Some weeks the questions from these struggling youth at a behavioral health center came so fast and furious I wasn’t sure how to address their many and varied questions—knowing each one was critical to their journey of faith, each one was coming from a desperate heart, crying for help. At times, their questions were genuine and their interest sincere. Other times, comments would be filled with sarcasm and their frustrations would flare out in combative rebellion as they questioned the truth I attempted to share with them. But at least they were asking the questions! This day, however, they were unusually quiet.   A young man, perhaps 17 years old, sat in the front row, arms folded across his chest—the universal body language for inaccessibility to his thoughts . . . or his heart. He listened respectfully enough. And in a moment of silence that went on long enough to embolden him to speak, he asked the simple question, “So you actually believe everything you read in that book?”—pointing to my Bible lying on the table beside me. I answered with deep sincerity, “Yes, I do. Every word, with all my heart.”   A roll of the eyes gave away some of the thoughts that his folded arms had attempted to withhold from me. I proceeded with the group, sharing more evidence for the truth of Scripture with them and addressing the infrequent question. It was nearing the end and another moment of silence loomed large in the room. Again, given space in that silence, a question from the young man in the front row: “So, if you believe everything in the Bible, (a pregnant pause in which my mind raced to consider all the controversial points in the Bible he might bring to test me) . . . if Jesus were to come to you and ask you to give up everything to follow him . . . what would you do?” It was the question posed to the rich young ruler—this kid had spent at least some time in church and had clearly been left disillusioned.   I thought for a moment to formulate my response. I hadn’t mentioned yet the fact that I had been a research scientist for 20 years. That I had left a position that not only allowed us to live comfortably but also fed my pride and ego. I think some people think that the story of the rich young ruler teaches that we have to give away everything in order to make it to heaven. I believe it to mean that we must give up anything that keeps us from truly following Jesus, and in my case, it was more the pride and ego than the money! I answered his question with a voice filled with emotion, “I kind of did give up everything. I gave up a 20-year career in medical research, a position of power and prestige, a good salary . . . to follow God’s call on my life. I gave up my career to travel around, sharing the truth of God’s Word with people who need hope—to come here to share with you.” My response was met with silence. His challenging eyes lowered as he pondered my words.   The session ended, and kids began noisily filing out—suddenly they were not so quiet. I started to gather my things when I noticed the young man was standing in front of me. “Thanks for coming today.” It seemed sincere! “If it were appropriate, I would probably give you a hug!” I was floored! It didn’t take long to mutually agree that a fist bump might be best. I was never as glad that I had chosen to say yes to God’s request to follow him as I was in that moment! It was testament to the fact that God will use our “yes” even in a quiet, seemingly disengaged group of troubled youth. I pray to this day that the work of the Holy Spirit continues to shape that young man’s heart. The promise of the legacy that could be changed because of the seeds planted that day is what encourages me to continue to “fight the good fight.” To God be the glory!   “He said to them, ‘Why are you troubled, and why do doubts rise in your minds?’” Luke 24:38 NIV   “Be merciful to those who doubt; save others by snatching them from the fire; to others show mercy, mixed with fear— hating even the clothing stained by corrupted flesh.” Jude 1:22-23 NIV   “Jesus looked at him and loved him. ‘One thing you lack,’ he said. ‘Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.’” Mark 10:21 NIV   “Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses.” 1 Timothy 6:12 NIV

There have been many times along this journey where I have found myself wondering how we would make ends meet. Both my husband and I have grown better at trusting God to provide, but my ministry “bucket” had been running dry and I couldn’t see where the funds would be coming from any time soon. I happened to be talking to another evangelist, and he mentioned that he had been making some good money donating plasma. While I realized this was a possibility, I had never seriously considered it . . .     I found myself rationalizing that the two 90-minute sessions each week could be my meditation time— and  I would be helping to save lives. Certainly, this could be a great way to get some additional, steady income. Something I could count on. (Something I had control over!) I made an appointment for the very next morning. After going through all the paperwork, video training, health screening, etc., they took me to the phlebotomists—only to find out I couldn’t give! My veins weren’t big enough or strong enough! Hmmm . . . dead end.    The very next day, I had a meeting with the founder of the ministry, and he told me he had seen that there had been a $1,000 donation given to my ministry . . . by someone I had never heard of . . . who lived in Florida! It was as though God wanted to show me that he did indeed have this! He would provide my needs, if even through someone I may have never met and I had no idea how my ministry might have impacted them!   When I received my monthly financial statements, I was reminded of that odd, unexpected, well-timed gift. The very next morning, I woke up after having a vision of a gallon of milk crashing to the floor with milk exploding everywhere. I didn’t understand this one right away. I remember thinking, “Why in the world would I dream about a gallon of milk exploding?!” It wasn’t until later that I realized what it meant. You know how when you drop a container with liquid, it goes flying everywhere? As you clean it up, you realize how many places it reached. Even after you think you got it all, weeks later you find more spots, in even more unexpected places!    I think evangelism is like that. You don’t even realize the impact and the far-reaching implications of speaking God’s truth and sharing the gospel. Maybe that man had a daughter in the county jail where I led Bible studies? Or a granddaughter at a local church I had spoken at? Who knows the far-reaching impact of our obedience and how much time might transpire before we realize how far it truly went . . . and what about the spots we never find? And isn’t it interesting that, in order for that milk to splash with such far-reaching implications, it has to hit rock bottom? Seems true for the most powerful evangelists I know.    “And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:19 NIV   “But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere.” 2 Corinthians 2:14 NIV   “And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.” Matthew 24:14 NIV

Fear, anxiety, worry. I find a culture filled with these things—and not just the world, but the church and most Christians as well—certainly even me at times. Worried about things outside our control. Afraid of things that have not yet happened, and most likely will not happen. And yet, we worry. The Bible teaches that God is a sovereign God. That he is mighty and wise and holds all things in his hand (1 Chronicles 29:12). He has a plan for each of us (Jeremiah 29:11). It teaches that perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18). Over and over God reassures us, “Fear not”—more than 80 times in scripture!    The Bible reminds us we don’t need to worry about what the future holds (Matthew 6:34). He offers the peace that passes understanding (Philippians 4:7). Joy in the most difficult of circumstances (Psalm 5:11). He will go before us (Deuteronomy 31:8). He will uphold us in his righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10). He will provide (Philippians 4:19; Matthew 6:25-34). He will protect (Psalm 121:7). Even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we need fear no evil, for God is with us (Psalm 23:4).    And yet, we worry. Indeed, at times we seem almost to relish the fear and the worry. Dwell on it. Allow our imaginations to go down every dark and troublesome alley at the first hint of trouble. And when God’s promises are held forth, they are often rejected . . . dismissed. It’s as though we feel the bringer of good news fails to see the solemnity of the issue, fails to have compassion for the victim, fails to show reason. Of course, we should fear, our logic says! This world is a dark and terrible place! And, indeed, it is—without the light. But with the light—with Christ —we can be fearless!    In thinking on this recently, I found it quite ironic. As we fear a robbery that has not yet happened—and most likely will not happen—we fail to see that a robbery has already taken place. The evil one comes to steal, kill and destroy (John 10:10). As we worry about our belongings and fear for our lives, the devil has run off with our peace, our joy, our trust . . . our very faith in the sovereign God who offered us all these gifts in the first place. Will we accept the gifts of the Holy Spirit? Will we live in the confidence he gives us? He did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7). Let us step out in confidence. Boldly speaking the truth in love (Ephesians 4:15). Sharing the peace we have found in him. Reminding each other when we forget . . . “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4 NIV   “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” John 10:10 NIV   “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7 NIV

I think it was maybe ninth grade, and he sat right in front of me in class. I don’t remember what class it was. It was a long time ago, and there is so much I have forgotten, so it is funny how vividly I remember this.   We called it junior high back then, rather than middle school—seventh through ninth grade. You remember—the age where there are so many hormones, so many changes, so much drama and trauma! Like the culture and world at large, we seem to have a great tendency to develop our own little cliques. Every generation has had them. From the greasers and the socs in the ’50s to the emos and the hipsters of late, we form these groups by which we identify and then include and exclude based on our standards.   In the early ’80s, there were the jocks, the preps, and the burnouts. The jocks were the athletic type; the preps were usually wealthier and overachievers; the burnouts—well, you know, the ones who did drugs and got into more trouble. You could pick each group out by their attire. The jocks wore Levi jeans and T-shirts—often with their favorite sports team or the school mascot—and the latest trend in athletic shoes. The preps could be found sporting Ralph Lauren polo shirts under a button-down Oxford, ideally with expensive jeans like Guess or Gloria Vanderbilt, and loafers. The burnouts had flannel shirts and waffle-stompers (otherwise known as hiking boots).   So, this guy that sat in front of me in class was clearly in the burnout group. Yet, one day, he showed up minus the flannel and waffle-stompers and wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Yes, that’s right, he was masquerading as a jock! I called him on it, asking what was up. He said, “You know, I used to be good at sports. I was good at running, and I liked it. The other day, I tried to go running, and—since I started smoking—I couldn’t even run anymore. I decided it just wasn’t worth it. I’m going to make some changes.” I couldn’t help but admire his gumption to make such a drastic lifestyle change, and I secretly wished him the best.   He wore his jock outfit for a while and then, one day, he showed up in his flannel and boots again. Again, I asked him what was up. I was heartbroken by his response. The jocks, many of them my friends, wouldn’t let him “in.” He had been shunned, excluded—rejected. Even if he wanted to change, they weren’t going to make room in their clique to give him a chance to try. He looked so sad. I was sad. Sad for him, disappointed in my friends. To this day, I wonder where life took him. If he ever was able to break free from that burnout culture. Is he leading a business somewhere? Or sitting in jail or a rehab facility?   Years later—too many years, to be honest—I have found myself in a very similar situation. I am becoming aware of the cliques we form in society and all too aware of how we can exclude those who “don’t fit in.” God has broadened my world. I have jumped over the high walls surrounding the modern church and ventured out into the world. I now not only know  of  these other cliques—I  know  them. I knew there were people who were abused; now I know people who have been abused. I knew there were people caught up in the drug world; now I know people struggling with addictions. I knew there were people in jail; now I know people in the jail.   And some things never change. We still set up some pretty firm boundaries on our little cliques, on the inclusion/exclusion criteria. As I have gone into the jail, it has taken a long time for them to let me “in.” I have had to work really hard to gain their trust and to show them I really do love them and care for them. In all honesty, I had to make a lot of changes to gain that acceptance. I didn’t pick up their habits, but I did have to let go of a lot of judgment and hypocrisy.   And as these women come to accept Christ, I have watched them really struggle to be accepted by people in the church. They share stories of feeling shunned, excluded—rejected. They talk about how the “church ladies” see their tattoos before they ever even talk to them to see where their heart is for Christ. They are judged for their skin color, their clothes, their language. And just like my friend, so often they go back and put on their “flannels and waffle-stompers.” If we won’t let them in, they have to either go it alone or go back to their old friends and their old ways. It’s hard to go it alone. Most don’t make it. And they are so sad. And I am sad. Sad for them, disappointed in my friends. After all, we’re not just talking the difference between business school and treatment center here . . . this is about souls . . . for eternity. We must do better. Let them in.   “May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” Romans 15:5–7 NIV   “Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in filthy old clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say,"Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,” have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?” James 2:2–4 NIV   “When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”” Matthew 9:11–13 NIV

Sometimes they call me the science lady or the dinosaur lady. I’m sure they’ve never been to a Bible study quite like mine. I doubt there are many chaplains who talk about dinosaurs and fossils and rock layers! There are many times I question whether it is really important to bring evidence-based teaching to the women in the jail. It seems like I should just bring love and grace! They are in such great need of both. But I constantly need to remind myself of the call God placed on my life to help restore the authority of his Word, to help dispel the myth-like qualities that have been put on the Christian faith—the “Santa Claus effect” as I call it—and to replace them with solid truth and a firm foundation. There are times when I question, and then there are times I am affirmed. On more than one occasion, it became clear that a little hard evidence could make all the difference. Dinosaurs in the dungeon (a little evidence behind bars) could dispel darkness after all!   “It Would Mean Everything!”   On one occasion, several women had decided to come see what the dinosaur lady had to say. This time, I believe we were addressing the reliability of the New Testament—the fact that there are nearly 25,000 manuscripts, found as early as within 40 years of Jesus’ death (well within the eyewitness period), found in abundance in every century since, and copied with 99.8% accuracy all the way up to the time of the printing press. Not too shabby, eh?!  It’s the best manuscript evidence for any writing of antiquity—BY FAR!—and with archaeological evidence to back it up. So, it was in the aftermath of bar graphs and a nearly cold-case style investigation of the evidence for the authenticity of the New Testament that I posed a simple question: “If we can trust the Bible and God’s promises, how would your life be different?” It was then I heard a nearly inaudible response from the woman who had been sitting quietly to my left the whole time. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she said, “It would mean everything! I would need to start living my life for him. I would need to be sure my kiddos knew about God.” It was one of the most honest confessions of faith—and its implications—that I had ever heard.   She went on to share that in the absence of a responsible mother in her life, her grandmother had been the one to take her to church. When she lost her grandma at the age of nine, she started to question God and slide away from the faith. It was an inexorable descent to the place she currently found herself—incarcerated, separated from her own children, unwittingly following in the steps of a mother she had not intended to emulate. I asked if it was that she had become angry with God or if it was just that she no longer had a spiritual leader in her life. She felt it was likely a combination of both. But on that day, in the aftermath of bar graphs and a cold-case style investigation, she inadvertently discovered what I had desired to bring in the first place—love and grace! She discovered she could believe in God and she could trust his Word. She discovered that the promises found there were for her and for her children. That they themselves could become children of God and heirs to his kingdom. That day, I was A-OK with being “the dinosaur lady”! May we continue to proclaim the truth boldly— in love!   The Revolving Door   As I continued to go into the jail, I began to realize a sad truth. These sliding doors were also revolving doors. The gals would come in, and they would go out . . . and they would come back in again. As it turns out, sanctification often comes slowly. For many and varied reasons, I would see familiar faces returning to our weekly study. Even as I found myself beginning to judge them, I had to take an honest inventory of my own faith journey. How many times did I slip back into old habits, old ways? In fact, I had one foot on the slippery slope in that moment, thinking somehow that I was better than them. Even Paul himself bemoaned, “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing” (Romans 7:19 NIV). Sanctification often does, indeed, come slowly. It was just easier to point fingers at them since my sins of judgment and self-righteousness didn’t put me behind bars.   Facts & Evidence   On another occasion, there was a woman I had met some months before. She had been attending weekly and growing in her faith prior to her release. Yet on the outside, she had slipped down the slope and back through that revolving door. So, she was back in the jail—but also back in the Bible! She wanted to share with the group what it had meant for her to come to know about Jesus and the Bible. She said that, growing up, her favorite teacher had been a science teacher. “She got me,” she shared. “She said that she didn’t believe there was a god because she was a scientist and she needed facts, evidence. And so, I stopped believing.”   But then she went on to share how she had wound up in the jail and at my Bible study. She could hardly believe it! Here, in a  Bible  study, was a lady that was a scientist who was providing facts and evidence! Little by little, the evidence won her back to trusting and believing that there is, indeed, a God. And even though she had slipped off track and found herself in jail again, she also found it a time to refocus on God and his will for her life.   Beyond what the facts and evidence could reveal, she had discovered so much more about faith. She had found a joy that transcended her circumstances. She had such a desire to share Jesus with others. She was praying for her siblings. She was sharing with her cellmates. She had her hope restored. We are all on our own journey of faith. Our sins may look different, but we all still have much to learn. We trust the good Lord to complete the good work he has begun in her . . . and in us!   “So he reasoned in the synagogue with both Jews and God-fearing Greeks, as well as in the marketplace day by day with those who happened to be there.” Acts 17:17 NIV   “Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation.” Joel 1:3 NIV   “As was his custom, Paul went into the synagogue, and on three Sabbath days he reasoned with them from the Scriptures,” Acts 17:2 NIV   “Now the Berean Jews were of more noble character than those in Thessalonica, for they received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true.” Acts 17:11 NIV   “…he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6b NIV

Our family has a tradition of camping at Snake Creek campground by Platte, SD, over Memorial Day weekend. Since our kids were young, we have met some friends there and made many great memories fishing, playing at the beach, and sitting around the campfire. Even as our kids grew up and my daughter started a family of her own, we continued the tradition, with the grandkids enjoying the same things our kids loved so much.   It was no different on this particular Memorial Day weekend, except that my daughter and I had a bridal shower to attend on Saturday morning. We would drive back to Sioux Falls and return later that afternoon. That meant we left three grown men in charge of three little men. Three  very  busy little men. Our youngest grandson was just a wobbly toddler, but still got around amazingly quick and always seemed to find any source of potential danger—and a campsite is filled with them! The dangers were real and abundant, from hot ashes and fire pokers to thistles and jagged rocks to the nearby river itself. My parting words to my grown son were, “I don’t care if he has been fed or changed or had his nap . . . just keep him alive!”   Upon our return, they were indeed all still alive. But according to my son, there had been some hairy moments! At one point, he had just plunked the toddler in the little high chair that clamped to the bench of the picnic table and strapped him in. The toddler was none too happy and was quick to let them know. Most of the campground, in fact, likely knew of his disapproval of his incarceration. He shouted and cried and banged on the high chair tray. My son told me, “I didn’t even care if he was mad at me; at least he was safe!”   As I have continued my ministry to the women in the county jail, they sometimes seemed a bit like my youngest grandson. They were quick to let me know how much they hated their current situation—the perceived denial of their rights, their loss of freedom, and how slow the wheels of justice seemed to move. They got mad, they cried, and they banged the table. But at least they were safe! It occurred to me that, just as my son had scooped my grandson up out of impending danger and strapped him safely in that high chair, a loving God had scooped these women up and put them someplace safe. Safe from themselves and their addictions, safe from traffickers and the abuse of others.  Not  where they might want to be . . . but at least they were safe.   I can’t tell you how many times I have made that analogy to these women. And most of the time, they get it. It was like a holy time-out. What may not seem “nice” may be the most loving thing that could have happened to them. Just as my son had watched that little man run around, narrowly averting disaster time and again, God watches his children run around, narrowly averting disaster. And, unlike my son, God knows what lies ahead! I couldn’t help but wonder how often a timely arrest and necessary (if undesired) incarceration kept these women from something even more disastrous that had been awaiting them just around the corner.   It was an analogy that made them stop and think. It changed their perspective—from one of discontent and anger to gratitude and relief. But, most importantly, it made them think about God differently. Maybe what seemed like punishment could actually be love? For many, the thought of God as a loving Father was hard to grasp. It wasn’t a concept they were familiar with. Many of them didn’t really even know their human fathers. Healthy, corrective discipline was often foreign to them. But the ones willing to surrender their “rights” to their Father were the ones in which I was blessed to see the transformation. With a newfound maturity, they stopped being so angry; there weren’t as many tears or clenched fists pounding the table. Rather, they found acceptance for their current situation and, oddly enough, peace, patience, and even joy! I just pray that I can remember my own preaching when I find myself crying and pounding my fists on the table! God is a good Father, indeed. May I never forget it.   “Now the LORD provided a huge fish to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights.” Jonah 1:17 NIV   “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” James 1:2–3 NIV   “Blessed is the one whom God corrects; so do not despise the discipline of the Almighty.” Job 5:17 NIV   “The LORD will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” Psalm 121:7–8 NIV

One day at the jail, we neared the end of our time together and I asked for their prayer requests. Several spoke up and then one woman asked that we pray for her roommate. She wanted to pray for her because her roommate had kept her up all night with her crying . . . about a boyfriend . I could sense a bit of disgust in her voice as she gave the reason for all those tears, but it was her next comment that really struck me. She said, “I vowed a long time ago to never cry over a man again.” Every man in her life had done her wrong—abandoned her, used her, beat her . . . My heart just broke. I was realizing that so many of these women had no idea what a godly man looked like; what a healthy marriage looked like. I gently assured her that there were men worth risking love on, that there were indeed godly men who would lead and provide and love and cherish.    In a world that has been trying to tear down the role of men, of husbands, we are bombarded with images of weak men and browbeating women. Sitcoms, commercials, everywhere you turn, the woman has to help the man survive. She is smart and strong and has it all together, he is an inept oaf! It may have started as a means for feminism and women’s rights to be entrenched in our society. In some ways, it has been a self-fulfilling prophecy. As a culture, we have certainly not been encouraging men to step into the role God would have for them. I went home to my amazing husband more grateful than ever for who he is—how he leads our family and lives his life, the husband he is to me, the father he is to our children . . . I am certainly blessed. While far from perfect, I pray that our marriage can be a witness to a watching world of the beauty and balance that God intended between men and women, united as one in the covenant of marriage, for life.   “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved he church and gave himself up for her…” Ephesians 5:25 NIV   “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord.” Ephesians 5:22 NIV   “Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” 1 Timothy 5:8 NIV

As I was doing ministry in the jail, a woman came to my study one Wednesday afternoon and started giving evidence before I could give it. It turned out she had been in jail some months before and had heard the very same lesson. She said she had actually been sharing it with people on the outside, using it to defend the Bible . . . but she was an atheist! An evangelistic atheist! An unbelieving apologist! She said that part of why she turned herself in on a warrant was because this was the only place she ever heard anyone give actual evidence for the truth of the Bible.   When I asked what kept her from believing in God, her answer sucked the breath from me. With tears forming in her eyes, she said, “I have not been a virgin since I was two years old. Every man in my life has used me and abused me. If there is a God in heaven who would forgive those men . . . I would rather burn in hell.” There was hardly a dry eye in the room.   It was no longer time to talk about the geological evidence of the pre-flood world—it was time to talk about forgiveness. Wisdom that was not from me began to flow from my mouth. Reassurance that forgiveness was not just for the offenders, but for her. It was a gift that could free her heart from the anger and bitterness that had consumed her and dictated her choices for years—for her entire life. Verses came to mind, words of comfort and encouragement. It was one of those strange moments in which I knew the power of the Holy Spirit just flowed through me to be a blessing to someone else—to a room full of broken and hurting women in desperate need of forgiveness and hope.   She didn’t come the following week. I didn’t know if she had been released, or if she was still wrestling with God. I just had to turn it over to him.   Sometime later, she was back in jail and returned to Bible study, where I was sharing the same lesson again —it’s not that I had done it that many times, either! She just had to laugh because what were the odds? But this time, she started coming regularly. She did laundry at night and slept during the day, but she had someone wake her up so she wouldn’t miss Bible study. She loved the evidence, and God was getting her heart! She was hungering for the Word, reading her Bible all the time, and drawing others in the block into the study with her. God was at work!   This woman continued to come and often was the one in the group to share how God had truly changed her heart. She would share that she had been an atheist not that long ago, and now she found she couldn’t put the Bible down—and beyond that, she had as many as 16 women gathering with her as she studied her Bible out in the block. Broken, hurting women—eager to learn with her!   One day she brought another gal to our study. This woman was clearly not a believer, and it appeared she came only on the promise of “evidence.” She listened with great interest throughout our time together. The next time I came, she started bubbling about how the evidence I shared had gotten her to open a Bible for the first time. God’s Word pulled her in, and now she simply couldn’t get enough. Moreover, both of these women were now sharing how God had transformed them—and others were testifying to the changes they could see in these women.   A few weeks later, the first woman was released, but the second continued to literally run to Bible study, and others would just laugh at her eagerness! This time she brought a friend of her own, one who had been raised in the church but had become disillusioned and fallen away from the faith—angry with God. In that study, you could see God working in this third woman’s heart.   As I later reflected on this remarkable chain of events, I saw clearly how the early church could have started and spread so quickly. As these women were given a firm foundation to place their trust and faith, they began to devour the Word. That, in turn, was transforming them in a simply contagious way. These women didn’t have to be told to disciple; their changed lives spoke volumes, and they simply couldn’t help but share all that they had seen and heard. I think that looks a little like the early church we read about in Acts! Praise God! His truth simply does not return void.   “But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” 1 Peter 3:15 NIV   “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Ephesians 4:31–32 NIV   “Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony.” John 4:39 NIV   “Therefore many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.” John 11:45 NIV