I was bored to tears on

that hot, sticky day in June of 1965. Already, only two

weeks out of school, I had run out of things to do during

summer vacation on this warm Sunday afternoon. August

would bring the dreaded two-a-day football practices, and

ahead loomed six more weeks of inactivity.

So, I grabbed my Fender

Musicmaster guitar, located my Sears Silvertone amp and

headed to the front porch to practice some of the songs

we had been learning in the rock n' roll band where I

played rhythm guitar.

As I was struggling with a

few of the popular British tunes, I noticed an automobile

drive past our house and stop. After a moment, the car

backed up and out stepped two girls I had seen at school.

Sherry Cloninger and Andrea Carter were at least a year

or two older than me and I had admired their beauty from

afar. And now they were headed into my yard!

I stood up to greet them

and the man with them driving the car. Although I knew

them, they had to ask my name and, after exchanging a few

idle comments about the muggy weather, they invited me to

go with them to their church youth group. I would

discover later that the three (the man turned out to be

Fred Austin, the brand-new pastor at Mountain View

Methodist Church) were on the way to church when one of

the girls spied me sitting alone on the front porch.

After some hesitation, they decided to stop and see if I

would like to go along.

When I asked what a youth

group was and what it did, Andrea, who had the whitest

teeth and the most darling eyes, sweetly explained that

there would be Bible studies, swim parties, dances, hay

rides, trips to Buffalo Mountain Camp, and a host of

other activities.

When I asked if any girls

would be at the youth group, Andrea and Sherry just

looked at each other, then back at me, and smiled.

"Why not?" I

responded.

I obtained my mother's

permission to attend the youth group and joined Andrea in

the back seat of the pastor's car. After about a mile of

travel, I said, "How many kids are in this youth

group anyway?" Again, Andrea and Sherry looked at

each other, back at me, and smiled. Then Andrea said with

absolutely no embarrassment, "Well, now there are

three!"

It was a chance encounter

that would change my life forever. A few months later, I

would publicly confess my faith in Christ and would

receive the sacrament of baptism. I would be elected the

president of the smallest youth group in Tennessee and,

after I coerced my friend Steve into attending, he would

be elected vice-president and, later, we would swap

offices.

Under the gentle

encouragement of Sherry and Andi and the watchful eye of

the Rev. Austin, who would be tagged "Rev.

Freddie" behind his back, we began to gather our

friends, classmates, and girlfriends to this small group

of kids that met in the white country church way out in

Preston Woods.

We did indeed do all the

things that the girls had promised we would do. We

learned something about the Bible, had swim parties,

movie parties, dances, and the other social functions. We

also had high moments of spiritual encounters on the tops

of ridges at Buffalo Mountain Camp, nestled in the woods

beyond the rural area just outside Johnson City, Tenn.

We had a chess club, made

movies, published a youth newsletter, and even sponsored

a youth boxing tournament (BIG mistake!). I preached my

very first sermon, all 11 minutes of it, during Youth Day

at Mountain View. I played high school football, was a

top competitor on the school's karate team, and briefly

attempted to compete in the shot-put on the track and

field team.

But my love, throughout

high school, was the youth group. When I couldn't get a

ride, I would walk the two miles to church, confident

that someone would give me a ride home following the

meeting each Sunday evening. By the time I graduated from

high school, the youth group had grown from three kids to

over 75 and the church had built a beautiful new brick

sanctuary, complete with a bell tower and a huge cross on

the sanctuary wall behind the Communion Table.

When I left home for the

Marine Corps during those turbulent and confusing days,

the Rev. Austin would write me, sending words of

confidence and encouragement, as I successfully navigated

the rigors of Parris Island, S. C.

During my days in the

military, I would sense a call to the ministry and,

eventually, would return home to complete college and

begin work in a church.

In 1971, on Labor Day, I

would marry a Baptist girl in that hushed sanctuary where

I had often meditated on that rough cross. Steve, who I

had dragged with me to the second youth meeting, would be

my best man and drag me into the sanctuary.

All that began some 34

years ago. During my 28 years in the ministry, I have

served as a youth pastor (twice), an associate pastor

(twice), a university campus minister at three

institutions, served as a pastor to seven previous

congregations, served as a police chaplain to four

agencies, traveled as a short-term missionary to two

African countries, and served several terms as a

denominational official. Three years ago, I began

ministry as a mission pastor and church planter.

As far as I can count, some

5,000 people have made commitments to Christ during those

years and over two dozen people have entered the ministry

under my training and sponsorship.

It's been quite an

adventure for a kid from the hills of eastern Tennessee.

All because two high school girls saw a guy they didn't

know strumming an electric guitar, sitting alone on his

front porch - and decided to invite him to church.

Whose life will you change

this week?

[Father

David Epps is rector of Christ the King Charismatic

Episcopal Church and is Canon Missioner for the Diocese

of the Armed Forces (Law Enforcement and State Guard

Chaplaincy). He is a member of the Bishop's Council for

the Diocese of Georgia. He may be contacted at

[email protected] or at P. O. Box 2192, Peachtree City, GA

30269.]

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