There are a lot of different things I look forward to in the summer: sun, swimming, sleeping in, reading non-academically, catching up with old friends, vacation, the list goes on... As soon as the weather gets nice, I also love bonfires. Something about sitting and chatting with friends in the dark around a fire pit filled with glowing embers and fierce flames on a humid, breezy night with incredibly sticky fingers due to the eating of a good ol' smore brings relaxation and peace to a usually busy life. There's usually plenty of laughter, reminiscing, and marshmallows.
Last night, I headed to Orange City for the first bonfire of the summer with some friends from high school. One of the girls was headed to Mexico for most of the summer and goes to Pella for college during the year, so she invited a bunch of people over to say a quick "hello" and "goodbye" for the summer. Only four girls besides the host ended up showing up, but the intimate size of the group made it easy to swap stories of college life back-and-forth.
The conversations started out lightly.. "What's your major?," "Who's your roommate?," "Do you like it there?," etc... Soon, however, one of the girls started sharing stories from the clubs and bars and asked us each if we had drank before. I truthfully answered, no, and was surprised when one of my best friends from high school nodded her head, yes. I didn't press for details or ask how often she drank, but shock was definitely there.
From there, the quality of the conversations took a fast, downhill slide. Topics ranged from hottest guys and most awkward hook-ups to drunkest nights and dirtiest dances. Needless to say, I didn't have much to add to most of the conversations. Most of my participation was laughter and questioning. Questioning, because I didn't understand many of the clubbing lingo and dirty slang some of the girls were using, and laughter, because some of the stories were simply funny.
The part of the night that frustrated me most were the thoughts running through my head almost constantly. "Say something. Call them out. Ask they why?" Thoughts like these filled my mind. As Christians, we're called to be witnesses and testify to God's name. Sitting back and laughing at the stories, while not acting on my conviction to say something about the sinful lives my friends had chosen to participate in.
As I drove home that night, I was frustrated with myself for not saying something, but I was also frustrated with my friends for their dumb decisions. I tried to think of harm that could have come to me if I would have said something. Sure, I may have lost the respect of a few old friends... friends whose respect I didn't really honor anymore due to their poor life decision-making. I might have been made fun of... but my blonde moments cause me to be made fun of all the time, so that's nothing new. I concluded that there really wasn't anything dangerous about speaking up. ERROR NUMBER TWO.
Why did I even worry about the harm that could come from speaking up? God calls us to dedicate our entire lives to him. He asks us to surrender all. To serve only one master--Him. Joshua 24:15 tells Christians to "choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve," and I agree with the second part... "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."
Now, I don't mean to say that my friends are the most awful, terrible people in the world. Because, well, we're all awful, terrible sinners saved only by God's grace. I do want to share a convicting lesson I learned... serving God means serving Him radically, in EVERY aspect of life.
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