Saturday. The glorious day of sleeping in, ignoring homework, tailgates, football games, and late nights. Except this little white girl decided that this week, she would wake up early, have her quiet time with the Lord, and then adventure forth to join a friend for Campus Serve. They’d be going to a kid’s site, and she liked kids, and bringing them back for lunch at the Rot, which she thought was neat. She hoped for adorable little girls who would hold her hand or at least want to play with her.

God had other plans.

God showed up in one of His many mysterious ways and rewarded said small white girl with three teenage boys. They lived in a neighborhood where dogs barked too ferociously to be friendly and where the dilapidated houses could also be described as dangerous. She almost wondered aloud about her safety, always made sure to lock her car, and wished that she had chosen a different site to visit. One with adorable little girls and a playground, not three teenage boys and a trip to the Rot.

Lord, I don’t know how to talk to them. What do I say? One of the guys who had gone to Campus Serve and this site before created conversation on the drive back to the Rot where they all hung out. Ten college students with three inner city teenage guys that, after the meal, declared that they wanted to play football.

Lord, I don’t know how to play football. I can’t play football. I kind of have a stomach ache. I bet they’d let me go back to my dorm.

But she didn’t say anything, she just drove to the fields and hoped it would be over. And after an hour in the hot sun having her butt handed to her by three kids she barely knew, it was. The small white girl found herself telling the guys she’d see them in two weeks after fall break. The small white girl discovered she was somewhat disappointed that she would not be driving anyone home. The small white girl drove back to her dorm in complete awe, at loss for words, unable to process exactly what had happened in those four brief hours.

That small white girl is me. It was me that God awed in the most random, incredible ways that I still don’t know how to write down. Everything I wanted, I didn’t get. The response I had planned on, I did not give. Instead, I saw three teenage guys that many before had probably given up on and I knew I could not be one of them. I needed to be consistent, to show them how worthy they are of love and, more importantly, of God. I want to look in their eyes and make sure they know that they are created for more than broken screen doors and old tattoo kits. And there was only one way to do that.

Go back. And go back and go back and go back and go back. Give up those mornings, drive to that crumbling place, sweat until you feel disgusting, and then go back. They are worth going back. They are worth the blood of Jesus, they are worth His resurrection, and they are worth four hours of a Saturday. And yes, there are sites with adorable little girls who will want hugs and to hold your hand, but Jesus is needed here. You have Jesus. Go back.

It’s more than just those guys too. I had told God the previous night that I was done being a safe Christian. I have grown and learned and done some stuff and God had molded me plenty, but I had been safe. To my own eyes, I wasn’t as bad as the Pharisees, but the problem was that although I was not a Pharisee, I was just another safe Christian waiting for life to begin. Loving Jesus and sometimes doing something about it and occasionally having mountaintops of total dedication and just being safe. And I was over it. I wanted to fall head over heels in love with Jesus, I wanted to pursue Him with all of my being, and I wanted to be dangerous.

His answer was three teenage boys from a rough neighborhood who I had no idea how to talk to, but who I could not turn away from. So against all reason and understanding, I am going back to Campus Serve. I am going back to that site. I am going to be dangerous. It will not be easy. I may consider giving up. But I have been called. And the best part is that you have been too. To a different place and to different people, but regardless, you have been called to something.