God Made Me Eat My Pride

So I just got back home yesterday from pretty much one of the best experiences in my life. That's right, it was Getaway, which is like a week-long youth conference put together by Campus Crusade. It was a time of revival, worship, evangelism, and yes, the beach.
The speakers were awesome, the seminars were very interesting, and the worship was led by Tenth Avenue North, 'nuff said. And I gotta say, in the midst of all the learning and praising God, He taught me so much more than just what the speakers talked about.
One of the most inspiring events that came to pass there was the instant transformation of a new friend of mine, Joe Averageguy*. It really opened my eyes to the wonders that God can perform through just about anyone. I mean, being an eight-year born-again Christian, I figured that my spiritual experience counted for something, and that I should easily be able to lead others to the feet of Jesus. And if not, I should be better at it than this Joe Averageguy dude, who became a Christian on the second day of the conference.
Man, was I wrong.
On the first day of outreach, Joe and I started off in the same evangelism group, but because of a disagreement in methods, we branched off. I figured that I knew the better way to talk to people about Jesus because of my multiple years as a Christian. I also almost ignored Joe's suggestions completely just because he was a Christian n00b.
Needless to say, that day was very much discouraging. At the end of the day, instead of getting to talk to people about my Lord and Savior, I got a group of extremely handsome females to think that I'm some sort of creep, some evil glares, and just outright rudeness. Joe brought someone to tears.
I didn't get it. "Shouldn't my experience mean that I'm better suited for this stuff than my friend over there?"
I was never really jealous of Joe, per se. More than that, I was a bit fed up with God. It all came to the point that, on that first day, I quickly decided to give up and throw in the towel.
Then the second day of outreach came around.
The "hook", if you will, going with the whole being fishers of men analogy that Jesus used, that we used was this huge medieval battle. They had a bunch of the guys from the conference make weapons and armor out of cardboard and duct tape and they went all-out. And just as our leaders had said, this attracted a bunch of people, but they quickly left right when the battle ended. They didn't even give us a chance to talk to them about Jesus.
Ok, that was pretty discouraging. But it only meant that we would have to step out of our comfort zones a little. So it started. The whole conference, all three hundred or so kids started going around, spreading the good news.
Basically the same thing started happening as with the first day, so I decided to group up with Joe to see what he did to get people to talk to him.
Still, no responses.
I was more than fed up. Everyone I talked to was either already Christian (dang Christians, get out of there!) or they just didn't wanna talk (you know who you are, stinkin' redneck).
So the day wore on, and before I knew it, it was time to go back to the bus. So me and a buddy of mine (hi) started walking back, and I kept telling him how fed up I was.
That's when I saw it: a shiny, glistening, red and white cross left over from the battle. "This'll be interesting," I thought. I decided that I was kinda mad, so I just took the cross, hitched it on my shoulder, and started walking.
A couple of minutes passed and the thing started getting really heavy, but, for some reason, I just kept walking with it. And I started forgetting about comparing myself with Joe Averageguy. My focus was on getting to the bus.
Then, as we were walking past some umbrellas, this guy, apparently a basketball coach or something, along with his girls' basketball team (score!) noticed my cross, and he asked me, "Were you part of that battle?"
"No," I said, truthfully.
But that just opened up a conversation about Jesus and I was finally able to share my faith.
And that's when it hit me: not until you let go of your pride and you take up your cross (quite literally, in this instance) will you be able to adequately serve Jesus. And even then, it's not on my time, or on Joe's time that I serve God, but on God's time.
Needless to say, the Lord works in mysterious ways, whether it be through this new Christian named Joe Averageguy, or through a sketch battle between sweaty, cardboard-clad fat guys, it's not up to us. It's up to God. We just work.


*Name altered for the safety of the individual