42,000 Feet Somewhere over Utah...

The young guy sitting next to me was pouring over a book by the Dalai Lama. I wondered, Under his veneer of youthful bravado, is he seriously asking questions about life and purpose?

Soon we were exchanged light banter. Then sensing a level of comfort between us, I pointed at the book my row-mate was holding and asked what he liked about Eastern Mysticism.

Jimmy was his name—and he seemed pleased I inquired.

“I see so much peace in his message,” he said about the Dalai Lama. “It’s bringing me somewhere I’ve never been before.” It turns out, Jimmy grew up in a mainline Christian denomination but had since drifted. He had all the characteristics of a postmodern poster boy. While he paused, Jimmy gazed at the cover of the book.

I knew it was time to bring Christ into the conversation, but I hesitated for the briefest of moments. A little voice in my head said, Don’t ruin the relationship you’ve established by clobbering him with the gospel.

I kid you not: A lightning bolt of fear split me in half, and I felt unsure about how to proceed. Then I looked at the book Jimmy was holding and decided it was worth the risk.

Reconsidering Propositional Evangelism
On my first assignment back in 1982, my wife, Ginnette, and I seldom met students like Jimmy. Teenagers in the early ’80s were generally warm toward propositional truth—i.e., the Four Spiritual Laws. I was trained to ask, “You’d like to receive Christ, wouldn’t you?” I chuckle when I recall how simply and to the point we presented the gospel to students.

Fast forward to last month. I approach three teenagers sitting at the Manhattan Mall on 34th Street and—after taking a quick survey to break the ice—began a conversation. These guys were from a highly selective school in the Bronx. They were smart and seemed interested in discussing spiritual things. At one point I brought out the latest version of the tract we use, “Connecting with God,” and asked them if I could highlight a few points.

To make a long story short, as their food grew cold, all three bowed their heads and prayed (out loud) to accept Christ.

It was a special moment, to be sure; but it’s not the norm any more. In fact, I don’t see it happening nearly as often as I’d like. We used to hear stories like this in droves, but they’re fewer and further between these days. It makes me wonder, Are students less responsive today? Why are so many suspicious and defensive toward a Christian message? Do I have to adapt or change the message in order to get their attention?

How Not to Share the Gospel
During a stint in Orlando, I was working to build ties with other parachurch leaders. One day one of them described—using fishing imagery—each of our unique ministry approaches to evangelism.

He said my organization, Student Venture, did evangelism like a fisherman who uses chum and dynamite.

I looked hurt, and so he said, “Okay, dynamite—period!”

We had a good laugh, but it got me thinking. Because of our reputation for using a tool to share the Christian message, somehow my colleague got the impression that Student Venture evangelized by pushing the detonator first, then picking up the pieces.

It was the first smudge upon the confidence I’d held in the evangelism method I’d been employing for years.

How Not to Share the Gospel II
During appointments with students back in the day, I used to draw diagrams on paper napkins I’d memorized from the Four Spiritual Laws. Several years ago I caught wind that one of those students, now involved with the Emerging church movement, had been doing a series of conference messages about evangelism, literally holding up the paper napkin I had used as an illustration!

My head swam, and I felt flattered that he’d highlight the investment I’d made in him. But when the person who told me the news sensed my pleasure, she quickly interjected: “Kevin, he’s using you as an example of what not to do!”

Ouch! Another wake up call.

What This Generation Needs (from Us)
Today’s young people no longer need napkins filled with neat, bow-tied biblical principles and Bible verses, assuming they’re already Bible literate. This generation needs the gospel in a form and language that can transcend negative perceptions of Christianity while building the Christian worldview.

This young man for whom I drew diagrams over sodas 25 years ago held up that napkin not to slander me but to remind us—all of us—that we must stay on the cutting edge of what communicates best to kids in today’s culture.

By and large the trend in evangelism has been away from the methodology in which I was trained. I’ve watched with interest over the past decade as youth ministers have become more and more sensitive to the needs of those outside looking in. We’ve learned the art of listening and building common ground. The implications of postmodernism demand it.

And by now we see clearly that our culture has shifted decisively away from Judeo Christian values. How we respond to that will tell a lot about how willing we are to plunge into the pain young people feel.

At the Brooklyn school where I work, I’ve met in the past year more students who engage in sexually deviant behavior than in the past 24 combined.

It’s shocking to stand in the middle of a group of students and listen: One girl tells her sexual partner (another girl) that she’s going home to shack up with the guy standing next to her. When I ask her partner how she feels about this, she shrugs: “I don’t own her.”

“But aren’t you two a thing?” I ask.

“Sure. But it’s not exclusive.”

Wow.

So what do I do as an adult who’s supposed to minister to these kids?

Love them.

I’m becoming more convinced every day that authentic love may be the message this generation hears the clearest.

But can we keep the gospel’s integrity intact while meeting and accepting students as they are?

Reality Check
I do wonder sometimes if we’ve stretched too far reaching for relevancy that we’ve lost our balance a bit. In our attempt to understand each new generation, have we—have I—forgotten that teenagers still need to hear the truth? Romans 10:14 states clearly that people need to hear before they can believe.

It would’ve been easy for me to simply continue bantering with Jimmy, for example, or just play it safe with those students at the mall, without risking a discussion about the gospel’s message.

So...why did I “close the deal”?

Because something rose in my heart that I couldn’t stop.

Compassion.

And the ears of young people perk up when compassion abounds.

Soul Sessions
Here in inner-city New York, I believe we’ve stumbled upon something that’s beginning to work.

Every week we meet students who’ve long ago abandoned the church, or who’ve never attended. They come to our meetings (called Soul Sessions) because we feed them pizza. They come in gangs, loud and unruly. We ask them to stay for a short message, but they get up quickly and leave, expletives filling the hallway on their way out. While it doesn’t seem possible that they’ll return, the very next week we hear them coming, talking about how much pizza they’ll eat.

Except this time they stay for the discussion.

With each week that passes, they become a little more engaged.

We sit at round tables and share stories we’ve culled from the Scriptures, filled with spiritual truth—as well as their slang. They ask many questions; to some, we have no great answers. We share simple truth, and they begin to understand the gospel’s simple message.

Our goal is unashamedly evangelism, but it looks and feels so different from the appointments over sodas I used to have with students. This is messy, filled with raw questions about death, heaven, hell, and anger toward authority figures.
We use a simple summary of the gospel to draw their hearts to God, but we deviate from “the script” often, because these young people demand tangible answers.

The gospel is still about God’s power to save—but we share it with language filled with story, drama, and provocative questions. In so doing, we enter into the pain that so many of them feel so vividly.

Young people on the outside of the church looking in need us to work hard at presenting the message so that they—who don’t have a Christian worldview—can hear it.

Soularium Cards
During a summer project in New York City, a group of students devised a tool for launching into meaningful dialogue with non-Christians. If a picture paints a thousand words, then this “tract” was a novel!

They came up with a stack of photos they called Soularium Cards. They described it as “50 images and a few simple questions to allow you to enter and explore the lives of people around you.”

As they spread these photos in front of people they met, they’d ask questions such as, “Which picture describes your life right now?” or “Which picture do you think best describes God?”

Last fall I ordered several sets of Soularium Cards and used them during meetings with new students. Frankly I wasn’t prepared for how honestly the students responded to the cards and the questions. They eagerly engaged in conversation, rifling through the piles of pictures, ogling over the creative shots. They had a hard time deciding which ones to choose. There was lots of laughter—and to my surprise, the questions led naturally into deep conversations about spiritual things.

No wonder—it came out of the hearts of young people.

The Best Evangelists for This Generation
The creativity needed to reach youth today will naturally come from younger and younger leaders, and no one speaks better to this generation than the students we lead.

Read that sentence again...slowly.

They’re the spiritual translators for a generation that no longer speaks the language of a Christian worldview. The most successful ministries I’ve had over the years have always included students trained and sent to view their schools as mission fields.

Take Shakeia, for instance: A senior in one of New York City’s toughest high schools. The other day, she told me, “I love sharing my faith. My music teacher is almost ready to respond to Christ because of my witness.”

In every school there are students waiting to be led.

They May Not Be Pretty or Polished, but...
The typical high school student, when motivated and trained properly, will challenge every rule of relevancy and every reason for staying silent. They’ll blunder their way into places we could never go—with a relevant message—because it’s being communicated with their voices, needing little interpretation.

The strange part of this drama is that you can still put tracts in students’ hands, train them to use them, and listen to the stories unfold of lives being transformed.

I don’t fully get it, but our little “Connecting with God” booklets come to life for non-Christian teenagers when Christian teenagers share them. And when Christian students experience God using them to evangelize their friends and peers, the gospel no longer remains an ethereal concept—it becomes a living reality.

At 42,000 Feet, Somewhere over Iowa
Jimmy looked directly into my eyes. As I shared my story of how Christ revealed himself to me, I could tell he was still cool, skeptical, and a little cautious about revisiting his former ties with the church.

That’s when God nudged me to talk about the uniqueness of Christ. Using C.S Lewis’ apologetics, I explained that every religion has an extraordinary founder who was charismatic, maybe even enlightened. But what Christ claimed—and did to prove those claims—puts him into a category all by himself. When I offered to send him Lewis’ famous book, Mere Christianity, Jimmy heartily gave me his address.

Let’s all strive to bring Jesus into clearer view for this generation—its members have lost their road maps home. We have to do the hard work of adapting our approach, risking proclamation, and empowering students inside the church to use those precious few years they have inside their schools to do the same.