As a teenager, I would hang around a place in Newport Beach called the Balboa Fun Zone. I would lean up against a wall, hair hanging in my eyes (use your imagination there), looking real tough. Christians who walked around and handed out their tracts didn't know what to make of me. They would thrust a pamphlet in my direction and then back off. But in my heart I was saying, "Talk to me. Don't be put off by my tough-guy façade. It is false. I am too proud to say that I need help. I am too proud to say, 'Tell me about Jesus.' "
I wanted someone to engage me. I would take the little tracts the Christians gave me and stuff them in my pocket, but never in the trash. I took everything that everyone gave me, everywhere. I had a drawer for all kinds of religious literature at home, and every now and then, I would pull it out, empty it on my bed, and try to sort through it. I had literature from Christians, Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses, Hare Krishnas, and more. You name it, I had it. I would look at this stuff and wonder what it all meant. I was looking for someone to show me the way.
Most Christians who have a basic knowledge of the faith could have easily explained the gospel to someone like me. And there is a world full of people out there who are just like I was, waiting for someone to take a risk. They are waiting for someone like you to say, "I will go ahead and give it a go." The worst-case scenario is they will say no. But what if they say yes? How willing are you to step out in faith and be used of Him?