Several years ago I felt God calling me to be a youth leader. This seemed odd to many because I was not in my 20s, 30s, 40s, or even my 50s, but was already partway into my 60s.
Being young at heart—in my head I was still twenty-one—it was somewhat easy to go on a mission retreat, attempting to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor with a room full of teenage girls, zip lining, or painting an elderly woman’s house during the day. To be sure, it was exhausting, but this ministry was not a stretch for me. For my heart was to steer these young folks away from the same deceptive drift—I saw them leaning towards—that years ago had taken me so far from the Lord. Using my life as a road sign of what not to do, I simultaneously tried to point them to Jesus and the love He holds for all who come to Him.
The caveat that I fell into was that even though my compassionate words were filled with truth, I had lost sight that it was the Holy Spirit and not what I was saying that would turn those kids to the Lord. Taking on the burden that was not mine to bear, my prayers were focused on what I could do in my own strength. I had forgotten that it is the Lord who changes hearts. Not me.
