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In 1972 I was a new Christian, and was eager to share my faith. But I had no training in presenting the gospel. When I heard that my friend, Trish, was coming to town, I knew I had to tell her about Jesus. We had been hippie journey-mates in college, and had both dropped out three years earlier. We had been poster children for the late '60s generation. Our penchant for radical politics, mind-altering drugs, and a curiosity for the occult were the ties that bound our friendship. It had been awhile since I'd last seen Trish, and I was afraid of her reaction to my newfound faith.

For weeks before her visit, I prayed that God would give me the words to say. I took encouragement from what Jesus told His disciples, "Do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say, for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you" (Matt. 10:19-20). When Trish called to say she was on her way to my house, and that her friend Mike was with her, my anxiety skyrocketed. I had experienced Mike's obnoxious sarcasm in the past. He was a "Big Man on Campus," and he had a black belt in verbal karate. I could just picture him sneering and being disruptive as I told Trish about Jesus.

Certain that Mike's presence was an attempt by Satan to foil my witness, I prayed one last time, "Lord, give me the words to say and the courage to be a bold and loving witness. Keep Mike's mouth shut. Soften Trish's heart, and open her eyes to the truth."

My heart pounded as I opened the door and welcomed them into my living room. Afraid I might chicken out, I blurted out that I had received Jesus as my Savior and that God had revolutionized my life. I shared what little Scripture I knew and told them of answers to prayer. It was a rookie's stab at witnessing, but I prayed that God would bless it.

I locked my eyes on Trish, not daring to glance at Mike until I was done. When I did look at him, I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. He said, "I am so glad you told me about Jesus. I've been thinking about God a lot lately, but I had no one I could talk to. My fraternity brothers would have just laughed at me."

The next week the phone rang. It was Mike. "Kathy, I'm calling to tell you I was saved this week. I asked Jesus to forgive my sins, and I was baptized. Thanks again for telling me about Jesus."

The last contact I had with Mike was a couple of months later. He called to let me know that he was attending church regularly. He had plans to attend a Bible college and was considering some type of ministry. As for Trish, she made a decision for Christ several months later.

God showed me that salvation belongs to Him. I am not the judge of who is ready to receive Christ, and their commitment is not dependent on my eloquence. My part is to share my faith the best I know how, then cover it with prayer. The rest is up to God.

Kathy Ptaszek is a freelance writer from Michigan.

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